IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


^ 

^  % 


^j>- 


1.0 


1.1 


mm  125 

y  m  122 

£   Iti   12.0 


L25  iu 


1.6 


—      A" 


FhotograiJiic 
^Scieiioes 
Lurporatian 


19  wht  main  triMT 

wniTM,N.V.  MIM 


^^^ 

^ 


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y:^f 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/iCIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Instiiuta  'or  Historical  Microraproductions  /  Inttitut  Canadian  da  microiaproductions  historiquas 


nV 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notat/Notat  tachniquaa  at  bibliosraphiquaa 


Tha  Instituta  hat  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturas  of  thia 
copy  whish  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqiia, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
reproduction,  or  which  may  aignifisantly  change 
tha  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checkad  below. 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


D 


y 


Couverture  endommagie 

Covers  restored  and/or  IrTiinated/ 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pelliculAe 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gAographiquas  en  couleur 


r-7l    Coloured  inic  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
ulJ    Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


D 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


Bound  with  i  ther  material/ 
Relid  avac  d'autras  documents 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr^e  peut  ceuser  de  I'ombre  ou  de  ia 
distortion  la  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appaer  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
il  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  aJout«es 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissrnt  dans  ia  texta, 
maio,  lorsque  cela  *tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  M  filmAas. 

Additionel  comments:/ 
Commenteires  supplAmenteirM: 


L'Instltut  a  microfilm*  le  meiileur  exempiaire 
qu'il  lui  a  Ati  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  ci<(  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliogrephique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
ure  image  reproduite.  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
mcdification  dans  la  mAthode  normale  de  fiim^ge 
sont  indiquAs  ci-dessous. 


r~n   Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  demaged/ 
Pages  endommagias 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurAas  et/ou  pellicglAes 

Pages  discolour'^d,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  c*iicolorte8,  tachattas  ou  piqu^es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  dAtachies 

Showthrough> 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  inAgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materirl/ 
Comprend  du  matArinl  supplimentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Adit'on  disponible 


I     I   Pages  detached/ 
r~j   Showthrough/ 


[71   PajM  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
bcJ   slips,  tissues,  etc..  have  been  ref limed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  imege/ 
Les  piiges  totalament  ou  partiellement 
obkcurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  oni  At*  fil'-nAes  i  nouveau  de  fa^on  * 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  th»  induction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  fHmA  au  taux  de  rMuotion  incHqui  ci-daasous. 

10X  14X  ItX  27X 


n: 


MX 


30X 


J 


12X 


IfX 


aix 


] 


aix 


■a 

itails 
m  du 
fiodi7(er 
fr  une 
Impge 


18 


The  copy  filmed  here  hea  been  reproduced  thanke 
te  the  generoaity  of: 

Dana  Portar  Arts  Library 
ynivarsity  of  Watarloo 

The  hnagea  appearing  here  are  the  iMat  quality 
poaeible  conaidering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  Iceeping  with  the 
filming  contrect  apecif icationa. 


Original  copiea  in  printed  paper  covera  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  iaat  page  with  a  printed  or  illuatrated  impres- 
aion,  or  the  bacic  cover  when  eppropriate.  All 
other  original  copiea  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illuatrated  imprea- 
aicn,  and  ending  on  the  Iaat  page  with  a  printed 
or  illuatrated  fmpreaalon. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
ahall  contain  the  symbol  --^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  aymbol  "7  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  appliea. 


L'exempiaire  film*  fut  reproduit  gri 
gtnAroait*  da: 

Dana  Portar  Art*  Library 
Univanity  of  Watarloo 


Lea  images  suivantes  ont  tt^  reproduites  avec  le 
plua  grand  soin,  compta  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nAttet*  de  I'e^iemplaire  film«,  et  en 
conformity  avec  lea  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Lea  exemplsires  originaux  dont  !ia  couverture  en 
papier  eat  imprim^e  aont  filmfo  an  commandant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniire  pn^e  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreaaion  ou  d'illustratlon,  aoit  par  le  aecond 
plat,  aelon  le  caa.  Toua  lea  autrea  exempleires 
originaux  aont  filmia  en  commen^ant  par  la 
premlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  emjireinte 
d'impreaaion  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  pa* 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  dea  aymbolea  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
caa:  le  aymbde  — ^  aignifie  "A  8UIVRE",  le 
aymbole  y  aignifie  "FIN". 


Mapa,  piatea,  charta,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratioa.  Thoae  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  expoaure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hend  corner,  hft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  frames  es 
required.  The  following  diagrama  iiluatrata  the 
method: 


Lea  cartea,  planches,  tableeux,  etc.,  peuvent  itre 
filmte  A  dea  taux  de  rMuction  diff«renta. 
Loraque  le  document  eat  trop  grand  pour  #tre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichi.  11  eat  filmi  i  partir 
de  Tangle  sup^rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  i  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bea,  en  prenent  le  nombre 
d'Imagea  nAceaaaire.  Lea  diagrammea  auivanta 
illuatrent  la  mithode. 


irrata 
to 


pelura, 
in* 


n 

31X 


1  2  3 


1 


1 

2 

3 

m 

6 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS 


DERRICK   AND    FAIRY    PRINCE. 


{See  Pag*  318.) 


J'k 


EFICIENT   SAINTS 


t  Cal£  0f  ^u'ns 


.  Ki> 


BEAT 


'    -•■■••.    A    CHARr.JTTH," 


"  kc-;  <.!.,.  wili  the  dty's  alleys, 
1  Ake  the  -ffiootli-shorji  plain. 
Give  U)  us  thf  ct-.s  s-  uiit^„c. 
Rock?,  and  n-  n 


CUustratrt  bo 
fKANK    i     MhKKil.L 


^^ 


*  -1. 


?/«.) 


BOSTON 

L.  e,   FAGf  A: 


iiii.: 


ANU    FAIRV    J'RINCE. 


(S'et  fiagejiS.) 


DEFICIENT   SAINTS 


^  Ealt  of  iSSattu 


BY 

MARSHALL   SAUNDERS 

AUTHOR   OF 

"  BEAUTIFUL  JOE,"   "  ROSE  A   CHARLITTE," 

"THE    KING   OF  THE   PARK,"    ETC. 


"  Keep  who  will  the  city's  alleys, 
Take  the  smooth-shorn  plain. 
Give  to  us  the  cedar  valleys, 
Kocks,  and  hills  of  Maine ! " 


SUttstrattH  bu 
FRANK   T.   MERRILL 


BOSTON 

L.  C.   PAGE  AND  COMPANY 

(incorporatbd) 

t899 


BDBB 


Copyright,  i8gg 
By  L.  C.  Page  and  Company 

(iBcorporated) 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London. 


i       i 
i      1 

i 

! 

L.i    . 

ffolonial  ^tr«« : 

EleetrotTped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simcnds  &  Co. 

Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

THE  CITIZENS 

'  OF 

BEAUTIFUL  BANGOR 

THIS  STORY  IS  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED 

BY  THE  AUTHOR 


CONTENTS. 


'.-     fTKK 

I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 


The  Elect  Lady  and  Her  Death-book 

An  Unexpected  Daughter-in-L/5  w 

To  Him  the  World  Was  Gay 

A  Favour  Solicited 

A  Pastoral  Visit     .... 

Stern   Her  Face  and  Masculine  Her 

Stride 

A  DAivE  WITH  A  Strange  Guide   . 
Of  Mixed  Blood       .        ,        .        , 
Tell  Me  Your  Secrets  .        .        , 
A  Reform  in  the  Bill  of  Fare    . 
In  the  Midst  of  Life  We  Are  in  Death 
It  Is  All  True        .... 
A  Dinner-party        .... 
UNQUIF.T  Hearts       .... 
A  Family  Cemented  by  Love 
A  Partial  Surrender     . 
Captain  White  Chooses  a  Monument 
A  Step  in  Advance  .... 
The  Church  or  the  United  Brethren 

Loses  Its  Pastor 
Burglars  at  French  Cross    . 


PAOB 
II 

24 

34 

51 
62 

73 
81 
98 
III 
122 
136 
148 
163 
178 
191 
200 

217 
230 

243 
254 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

XXI. 


XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

xxvin. 

A,Xj.X. 
XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 


Miss  Gastonguay  Interviews  Her  Pris- 
oner   .... 
Criminal  Records    . 
When  a  Man's  Happy     . 
An  Invitation  to  a  Picnic 
In  the  French  Cross  Wood 
The  Picnic  and  the  Old  Prison  Well 
H.  Robinson  and  His  Revelation 
Captain  White's  Ba.x  Play  . 
News  of  the  Wanderer 
The  Return  of  the  Wanderer 
H.  Robinson  Again  . 
A  Branch  Cut  Off  . 
The  Puritans  Have  Triumphed  1 
The  Son  of  the  Morning 


PAGH 

266 
280 

316 
322 
336 
350 
363 
369 
378 

390 
406 
418 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PACB 

Frontispiece 


Derrice  and  Fairy  Prince      . 

•"Derrice,  this  is  Mr.  Mercer'"  ....  26 
"'I  have  a  message  to  you  from  this  brother'"  140 
"She  seized  a  stick  ...  and   gently   stirred 

the  sleeper  with  it" 266 


i 


DEFICIENT   SAINTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  ELECT  LADY  AND  HER  DEATH  -  BOOK. 

In   the   dining-room   of   the    old    stone    Mercer 
mansion  in  the  town  of  Rossignol,  Me..  Mrs.  Hip- 
polyta   Prymmer,  sanctified   vessel   and  uncommon 
samt,  charter  member  of  the  church  of  the  United 
Brethren,  chief  leader  in  religious  work,  and  wag- 
gishly  nicknamed   by  the  ungodly  about  her   "the 
elect  lady,"  sat  looking  earnestly  at  her  death-book. 
This  death-book  was   her  never-failing  source  of 
interest  and  chastened  entertainment.     In  it  she  had 
enrolled  the  names  of  the  various  friends  of  whom 
she  had  been  deprived  by  death,  and  for  its  enlarge- 
ment and  adornment  she  collected  photographs,  cut- 
tmgs    from  newspapers,    and   items  of  information, 
with  an  assiduity  superior  to  that  of  some  of  her 
acquaintances,  who  prepared  scrap-books  merely  for 
purposes  of  diversion  and  amusement. 

II 


12 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


The  covers  of  the  book  were  ornamented  with  two 
silver  plates  engraved  with  the  names  and  ages  of 
her  two  deceased  husbands,  —  Sylvester  Mercer  and 
Zebedee  Prymmei'.  These  plates  had  been  taken 
from  the  coffins  of  the  two  worthy  men  before  they 
had  been  lowered  to  their  graves.  Wedged  under 
each  plate  were  locks  of  hair  shorn  from  the  heads 
of  the  dead  men.  Sylvester,  according  to  his  coffin- 
plate,  had  been  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life.  His  lock 
of  hair  was  soft  and  brown,  while  that  of  Zebedee 
Prymmer,  whose  age  was  given  as  sixty-five,  was 
stiff  and  grizzled. 

Mrs.  Prymmer  did  not  quail  as  her  eye  ran  over 
these  somewhat  ghastly  souvenirs.  She  even  sighed 
gently,  and  with  eyes  partly  closed,  —  for  she  nearly 
knew  the  contents  of  the  book  by  heart,  —  repeated 
softly  some  lines  addressed  to  herself,  written  by 
Zebedee  Prymmer  before  death,  but  worded  as  if 
they  had  been  penned  after  his  flight  to  regions 
above. 

"  Mourn  not,  oh  loved,  oh  cherished  dear, 
I  have  no  longer  foes  to  fear, 
From  here  above,  far  in  the  sky, 
I  see  the  pit  wherein  they'll  lie. 


♦*  They  digged  around  me  in  the  dust, 
But  Providence  sustained  the  Just, 
Come  soon  and  join  the  dear  upright, 
And  triumph  over  sons  of  spite." 


THE  ELECT  LADY  AND  HER  DEATH- BOOK.      1 3 

Mrs.  Prymmer,  musing  enjoyably  over  these  lines, 
had  her  attention  distracted  by  her  cat,  who  was 
mewing  around  her  feet,  turning  his  sleek  face  up 
to  her  sleek  face,  and  pretending  that  he  thought 
it  was  breakfast-time  instead  of  bedtime. 

"  I  sha'n't  give  you  any  milk,"  she  said>  severely, 
"you  had  enough  for  your  supper;  go  to  bed." 

The  cat  fled  down-stairs,  and  Mrs.  Prymmer  gazed 
across  the  room  at  the  clock.  The  sight  of  her 
round  gray  eyes  was  undimmed.  All  her  bodily 
faculties  were  in  a  good  state  of  preservation,  and 
undeterred  by  the  mournful  fact  that  she  had  laid 
two  husbands  in  the  grave,  she  was,  perhaps,  by  no 
means  averse  to  taking  a  third  one.  In  the  course 
of  time  she  would  probably  have  another  offer,  for 
Rossignol  was  a  marrying-place,  and  she  was  some- 
what of  a  belle  among  elderly  widowers,  being  still 
good-looking  in  spite  of  the  artificial  and  unpleasing 
compression  of  her  lips,  and  the  two  lines  up  and 
down  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

She  began  to  wonder  just  how  her  son  would  take 
the  news  of  another  marriage  on  her  part.  She  was 
a  little  afraid  of  this  son,  although  she  loved  him 
better  than  any  one  else  in  the  world.  He  was  the 
only  living  person  admitted  into  her  death-book,  and 
drawing  his  photograph  from  between  the  leaves,  she 
looked  at  it  half  lovingly,  half  apprehensively.  It 
was  a  not  unstriking  face  that  confronted  her.     He 


14 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


was  a  curious  combination,  this  boy  of  hers,  —  half 
Englishman,  half  Yankee.  His  tall,  firmly  built 
figure,  his  reserve,  and  his  pale  face  were  a  legacy 
fiom  his  father,  who  was  of  direct  English  ancestry ; 
his  business  ability  and  calculating  ways,  and  his 
granite-coloured  eyes,  that  so  swiftly  and  unerringly 
measured  his  fellow  men  with  respect  to  their  use- 
fulness or  uselessness  to  him,  were  direct  gifts  to 
him  through  his  mother  from  a  generation  or  two  of 
New  England  traders. 

She  wondered  once  more  just  how  he  would  look 
and  what  he  would  say  if  some  one  were  to  observe 
suddenly  to  him,  "  So  I  hear  your  mother  is  going 
to  be  married  again." 

Her  plump  shoulders  quivered  nervously,  and  she 
looked  deeper  into  his  fathomless  eyes.  Probably 
he  would  be  annoyed  at  first,  but  in  time  he  would 
calm  down,  and  would  go  on  living  with  her  and  a 
third  husband  just  as  he  had  lived  with  her  and  a 
second  one. 

"  He  never  liked  Zebedee,"  she  reflected,  comfort- 
ably, "yet  he  was  always  respectful  to  him.  He's  a 
pretty  good  boy  is  Justin,"  and  she  passed  one  hand 
caressingly  over  the  pale,  composed  face,  and  wished 
earnestly  that  he  would  come  home  from  the  long 
and  mysterious  journey  that  he  had  undertaken  some 
weeks  ago. 

The  house  was  very  quiet  now  that  he  was  away. 


THE  ELECT  LADY  AND  HER  DEATH  BOOK.      1 5 

A  cousin  who  boarded  with  her  was  also  absent,  and 
her  solitary  maid  servant,  who  should  have  been  in 
bed,  was  roaming  the  streets  with  a  sailor  lover. 

"  Half-past  ten,"  said  Mrs.  Prymmer,  in  a  voice 
that  boded  no  good  to  the  loitering  maid,  "  and  her 
hour  is  ten  sharp.  There  she  is,  — the  witch,"  as  a 
ring  at  the  bell  resounded  through  the  silent 
house. 

She  got  up  and  went  quickly  through  the  hall. 
"  Mary ! "  she  said  as  she  opened  the  door.  "  Mary !  " 

There  was  something  so  aggravating  in  her  tone 
that  it  checked  the  apology  on  the  lips  of  the  be- 
lated girl,  and  made  her  toss  her  head  angrily. 

"  Mary,"  repeated  her  mistress,  warningly,  "  if  this 
happens  again  I  shall  consider  it  my  duty  to  dismiss 
you  without  a  character." 

The  maid  hurried  up-stairs,  her  back  respectful, 
her  face  working  vigorously  as  she  made  mouths  at 
an  imaginary  mistress  in  front  of  her. 

Mrs.  Prymmer  was  about  to  follow  her  when  her 
attention  was  caught  by  a  sound  of  sleigh-bells  com- 
ing from  the  snowy  street.  The  old  stone  house,  in 
common  with  most  of  its  neighbours,  was  perched  on 
a  bank  som^  distance  from  the  street,  and  was  ap- 
proached by  several  flights  of  steps  cut  into  the 
terraces  before  it. 

A  sleigh  was  drawn  up  to  the  pavement  below, 
and  slowly  descending  from  it  was  her  son,  whom 


t6 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


she  had  supposed  to  be  in  California.  She  held  her 
breath  with  pleasure.  She  had  got  him  hack  again, 
her  one  and  only  child,  her  son  by  her  first  marriage, 
—  young  Justin  Mercer,  junior  deacon  in  the  church 
of  the  United  Brethren,  the  hope  of  the  older  mem- 
bers of  the  fiock  and  the  model  of  the  rising  genera- 
tion. In  unbounded  pride  she  noted  his  firm  step, 
his  unruffled  appearance,  the  uprightness  of  his 
figure,  and  the  cool  flash  of  the  eye  behind  the 
glasses  that  he  always  wore. 

Instead  of  looking  like  one  arriving  home  from  a 
journey,  he  had  rather  the  appearance  of  one  just 
about  to  leave  home,  and  as  calmly  as  if  he  had  seen 
her  a  few  hours  before  he  bent  his  tall  figure  to 
bestow  a  filial  embrace  upon  her. 

In  a  sudden  upsurging  of  maternal  affection  she 
responded  warmly  and  involuntarily,  until  the  re- 
membrance of  his  abrupt  departure  made  her  draw 
back  and  sur/ey  him  silently. 

"  Are  you  not  glad  to  ^ave  me  back } "  he  asked, 
with  a  slight  smile. 

"  Yes,  though  your  going  away  was  none  of  the 
pleasantest,"  she  said,  in  an  injured  voice,  while  with 
the  tips  of  her  fingers  she  arranged  on  ^  her  temples 
the  thick  crimped  hair  slightly  disturbed  by  his 
caress. 

**  I  am  sorry  for  it,  mother,"  he  said,  with  the  same 
curious  smile,  "  and  I  regret  to  state  that,  unpleasant 


THE  ELECT  LADY  AND  HER  DEATH -BOOK.      1 7 


as  it  was,  you  may  find  it  was  not  equal  to  my 
return." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  she  said,  peevishly,  "  and 
why  doesn't  that  man  fetch  in  your  things  ? " 

"  I  told  him  to  hold  his  horses  until  I  came  back. 
I  have  a  present  for  you,"  and  he  turned  and  went 
down  the  steps  while  his  mother  returned  to  the 
shelter  of  the  porch. 

Suddenly  she  became  as  rigid  as  the  door-post 
behind  her.  The  present  w?»s  taking  on  the  shape 
of  all  things  in  the  world  most  hateful  to  her.  A 
young  girl  of  medium  height  was  coming  up  the 
steps,  and  bending  over  her  in  a  protecting  attitude 
was  her  son  Justin. 

They  paused  for  an  instant  before  her.  Mrs. 
Prymmer  had  a  brief  confused  vision  of  a  big,  beauti- 
ful wax  doll  whose  limpid  eyes  shone  out  of  a  mist 
of  light  hair,  then  her  son  flashed  her  a  swift  glance, 
and  seeing  that  he  could  hope  for  no  response,  laid 
a  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  vision  and  with- 
drew it. 

Mrs.  Prymmer,  brushing  by  the  cabman  who  was 
staggering  in  under  the  weight  of  a  trunk,  marched 
solemnly  into  the  hall,  opened  the  door  of  the 
parlour,  and,  lighting  the  gas,  sat  down  in  an  arm- 
chair of  imposing  proportions  and  awaited  an  ex- 
planation. 

Her  son  had  conducted  his  companion  to  the 


i8 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


dining-room.  She  heard  a  few  low-spoken  words, 
then  his  heavy  step  came  through  the  hall,  and,  en- 
tering the  room,  he  sat  before  her. 

"  I  don't  know  what  some  women  would  call  this," 
she  said,  compressing  her  lips  till  there  was  nothing 
but  a  thin  streak  of  red  between  them,  "  but  I  call 
it  an  insult." 

"  It  is  not  intended  as  an  insult,"  he  said.  "  Per- 
haps if  you  will  wait  till  I  explain  —  " 

"You  can't  explain  s./ay  the  fact  that  that  is  a 
woman,"  replied  Mrs.  Prymmer,  pointing  an  accusing 
finger  toward  the  next  room. 

No,  he  could  not.  With  all  the  words  that  he 
could  utter,  with  all  the  stock  of  logic  at  his  com- 
mand, Justin  Mercer  could  not  disprove  the  fact  that 
in  the  room  beyond  them  was  a  young  and  uncom- 
monly beautiful  woman. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  saying  that  she  is  a 
present  for  me.?"  asked  his  discomfited  mother. 
"I  have  one  girl  now.  I  suppose  this  is  some 
creature  you  have  picked  up  on  your  travels." 

Justin  Mercer  was  not  a  man  given  to  unseemV 
mirth,  yet  at  this  disdainful  remark  he  made  a  sound 
in  his  throat  closely  approaching  a  laugh.  "Did 
you  look  at  her,  mother  ? " 

Mrs.  Prymmer  for  a  few  instants  forgot  her  ven- 
geance in  her  curiosity.  It  was  no  servant,  but 
a  lady  that  had  passed  her  in  the  doorw  y.     The 


THE  ELECT  LADY  AND  HER  DEATH- BOOK.      1 9 


delicate  face,  with  its  clear-cut  features  and  limpid 
eyes,  was  a  refined  and  not  a  vulgar  one. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  she  asked,  peremptorily. 

"  She  is  my  wife,"  he  said,  quietly. 

"  Your  wife,"  gasped  Mrs.  Prymmer,  and  she  half 
rose  from  her  chair,  then  staggered  into  it  again,  and 
laid  her  hand  against  the  high  back  for  support, 
while  all  the  furniture  in  the  room,  presided  over 
by  her  son's  sober  face,  whirled  slowly  by  her  in  a 
distracted  procession. 

"Shall  I  get  you  a  glass  of  water.?"  he  asked, 
sympathetically. 

She  made  a  prohibitory  gesture.  This  was  only 
the  reflex  action  of  the  blow  struck  when  first  she 
had  seen  the  young  girl  accompanying  him  up  the 
steps.  She  knew  then  that  he  had  brought  home  a 
wife.  Moistening  her  dry  lips  with  her  tongue  so 
that  she  might  compass  the  words,  she  articulated, 
"This  is  the  fruit  of  disobedience." 

Her  son  did  not  reply  to  her,  but  there  was  no 
sign  of  regret  on  his  face,  no  word  of  apology  on  his 
tongue.  He  had  found  the  fruit  sweet,  and  not 
bitter,  —  he  had  plucked  it  in  defiance  of  her  well- 
known  wishes.  She  had  lost  the  little  boy  that  she 
had  led  by  the  hand  for  years,  —  the  young  man 
that  had  lingered  by  her  side,  apparently  indifferent 
to  dl  feminine  society  but  her  own.  She  had  lost 
him  for  ever,  and,  making  a  motion  of  h^  plump 


30 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


hands  as  if  she  were  washing  him  and  his  affairs 
from  them,  she  got  up  and  moved  toward  the  dcor. 

"Don't  you  want  to  hear  about  my  journey?"  he 
asked,  kindly. 

She  did  indeed  want  to  hear.  She  was  suffering 
from  a  burning  inquisitiveness>  yet  she  affected  indif- 
ference, and  said,  coldly,  "I  do,  if  you  will  tell  me 
the  truth."  ^«j^^ 

"  Did  I  ever  tell  you  a  lie  ? "  ^^^m 

"  No,  but  I  daresay  you  will  begin  now,  —  *  by  their 
fruits  ye  shall  know  them.'  I  thought  you  were 
never  going  to  get  married." 

"  I  never  said  so." 

''  You  acted  it." 

**  You  had  better  sit  down,  and  I  will  tell  you  how 
it  happened,"  he  said,  soothingly. 

Mrs.  Prymmer  hesitated,  then,  dominated  by  his 
slightly  imperious  manner  and  her  own  ungovernable 
curiosity,  she  took  on  the  air  of  a  suffering  martyr, 
and  reseated  herself. 

There  was  a  large  mirror  over  the  mar*:elpiece, 
and  the  young  man,  catching  in  it  a  glimpse  of  the 
contrast  between  his  own  pale  face  and  the  ruddy 
one  of  his  mother,  murmured,  "  You  are  very  fresh- 
looking  for  fifty-five  years." 

It  was  not  like  Justin  Mercer  to  make  a  remark 
about  the  personal  appearance  of  man,  woman,  or 
child.      His  mother  glanced   at   him   in   surprise. 


THE  ELFCT  LADY  AND  HER  DEATH- BOOK. 


then  for  a  brief  space  of  time  was  mollified  by  his 
approval  of  her  comfortable  appearance,  although 
she  murmured  a  stem  reference  to  gray  hairs  that 
are  brought  down  by  sorrow  to  the  grave. 

"  Your  face  is  xull,"  he  went  on,  in  his  composed 
voice,  "  and  your  hair  is  thick  and  glossy  like  a  girl's, 
and  your  eyes  are  bright,  —  as  bright  as  Derrice's 
there  —  " 

The  mention  of  his  wife's  name  was  inopportune. 
"  Is  that  what  you  call  her  ? "  asked  his  mother,  with 
a  scornful  compression  of  the  lips. 

"  Yes,  Derrice  Lancaster." 

Mrs.  Prymmer's  countenance  grew  purple.  "  She 
is  not  a  daughter  of  that  man  ? " 

"  She  is." 

"Help,  Lord,  for  ihe  godly  man  ceaseth,"  mur- 
mured the  lady,  upon  whom  these  repeated  blows 
were  beginning  to  have  the  effect  of  inducing  irrel- 
evancy of  Scripture  quotations. 

"  If  you  like,  I  will  tell  you  from  the  first,"  said 
her  son. 

**  Do  you  want  her  to  hear  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Prymmer, 
with  a  glance  toward  the  sliding  doors  that  divided 
the  two  rooms. 

The  young  man's  face  changed  quickly,  and  mut- 
tering, "It  would  be  just  like  her  to  listen,  —  the 
little  witch,"  he  got  up  and  approached  the  doors. 

"  Hello,"  said  a  mischievous  voice,  and  he  caught 


32 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


H  - 


a  gleam  of  bright  eyes  and  a  smiling  face  at  the 
gaping  crack.  Hastily  opening  the  doors,  he  passed 
through,  and,  firmly  closing  them  behind  him,  stood 
over  the  beautiful  but  slightly  unformed  and  unde- 
velop'jd  figure  sitting  on  the  sofa,  that  was  drawn 
close  up  to  tho  doors. 

"  Derrice,"  he  said,  reprovingly. 

"What  a  trying  time  you  are  having  with  your 
mamma,"  she  said;  saucily.  "I  was  just  aboi't  to 
interrupt.     I  want  to  go  to  bed." 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  submissively,  and,  preceding 
her  into  the  hall,  he  picked  up  a  small  leather  bag. 

Mrs.  Prymmer,  peering  out  of  the  front  room,  saw 
them  go  by,  —  her  son  with  the  girl's  cloak  thrown 
over  his  shoulder,  his  head  inclined  toward  her,  as  he 
talked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Bewitched  !  "  she  exclaimed,  furiously,  and,  creep- 
ing to  the  door-sill,  she  listened  to  their  further 
movements. 

Ever  since  his  childhood  her  son  had  occupied  a 
large  room  at  the  back  of  the  house  overlooking  the 
garden.  Mrs.  Prymmer  heard  him  open  the  door  of 
this  room  and  ask  his  wife  to  stand  still  while  he 
found  a  match.  Then  there  was  a  silence,  and  she 
pictured  the  girl's  critical  glance  running  over  the 
muffled  furniture,  the  covered  bed,  and  the  drawn 
blinds. 

Presently  there  was  the  sound  of  the  strange  voice 


THE  ELECT  LAD  V  AND  HER  DEA  TH-  BOOK.      2$ 

in  the  hall,  "I  cannot  sleep  in  that  room.     It  is 
damp,  and  the  sheets  are  clammy." 

"But,    Derrice,"    said   her  son's   clear  tones  in 
remonstrance. 

"I  am  not  mistaken,"  repeated  the  girl,  "where 
are  your  other  sleeping-rooms  ? " 

"  If  Micah  is  at  home  we  haven't  any,"  he  said, 
decidedly.     "  Most  of  our  bedrooms  are  shut  up." 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  sit  up  all  night  or  go  to  a 
hotel,"  said  the  girl,  with  equal  decision. 

Mrs.  Prymmer  felt  herself  called  upon  to  save  the 
family  reputation.  She  stepped  into  the  hall,  and  in 
a  voice  choking  with  wrath  called  up  the  staircase, 
"Micah  isn't  home,  —put  her  in  his  room." 

The  girl  looked  over  the  railing  at  her.  It  seemed 
to  Mrs.  Prymmer  that  her  eyes  were  rolling  mis- 
chievously.  « Thank  you,"  she  said,  sweetly,  then 
she  retired,  and  her  disconcerted  mother-in-law  went 
back  to  the  parlour. 


CHAPTER   II. 


AN    UNEXPECTED    DAUGHTER-IN-LAW. 


When  Justin  returned  to  the  parlour  there  was  a 
slight  flush  on  his  face,  and,  taking  off  his  spectacles, 
he  wiped  them  with  a  somewhat  weary  air. 

"  I  guess  you've  got  a  handful  in  your  new  wife," 
said  his  mother,  with  resentful  relish. 

He  gave  her  an  unexpected  smile.  "  She  hasn't 
been  brought  up  as  we  have — "  Then  he  par.sed  and 
fell  into  a  reverie  out  of  which  his  mother  inexorably 
roused  him.  "  I  wish  you  would  get  on  with  your 
story.     I  don't  want  to  stay  here  all  night.' 

Justin  put  on  his  glasses,  brushed  bacK  the  thick 
hair  from  his  forehead,  and,  leaning  forward  in  his 
chair,  said,  firmly,  "It  is  just  five  weeks  to-day  since 
I  came  home  with  a  telegram  from  Mr.  Lancaster 
asking  me  to  go  to  see  him  on  urgent  business." 

"Yes,  and  I  advised  you  not  to  go,"  sAd  Mrs. 
Prymmer,  squeezing  her  lips  together.  "  *  The  way 
of  transgressors  is  hard.' " 

"You  advised  me  not  to  go  because  you  knew 
nothing  of  the   circumstances.     You   know  that  I 


AN  UNEXPECTED  DAUGHTER  IN-LAW. 


25 


cannot  give  you  the  details  cf  my  business  transac- 
tions. Can't  you  trust  me  to  do  what  is  right  in 
such  cases  ? " 

"Put -not  your  trust  in  princes,"  she  said,  stub- 
bornly. "  A  man  should  have  no  secrets  from  his 
mother." 

"  You  forget  *■'*''♦■  I  am  not  a  boy,"  he  said,  calmly. 
Then  he  went  on,  "  I  hurried  to  California  and  found 
Mr.  Lancaster  in  a  seaside  place  sitting  in  the  sun 
parlour  of  a  hotel.  He  was  pleased  that  I  had  come 
so  quickly,  and  talked  over  his  affairs  with  me  —  " 

"  It's  a  very  odd  thing,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Prymmer, 
"  that  a  man  who  has  travelled  as  much  as  this  Mr. 
Lancaster  of  yours  should  do  all  his  business  in  a 
little  place  like  this.  Why  doesn't  he  go  to  banks 
in  New  York  0/  Boston  ? " 

"  He  probably  knows  his  own  mind,"  said  Justin, 
with  an  unmoved  face.  "  That  day  I  did  some  writ- 
ing for  him,  then  he  looked  out  the  window.  There 
was  a  long  beach  where  a  small  number  of  young 
people  were  bathing  in  the  surf.  Mr.  Lancaster 
said,  *  You  have  never  met  my  daughter,  —  come  out, 
and  I  will  introduce  you.  The  bathing  season  has 
not  begun,  but  she  often  gets  up  a  party  in  the  spirit 
of  adventure.'  We  went  outside,  and  when  he  called, 
*Derrice,*  one  of  the  bathers  came  toward  us.  I 
saw  that  she  was  a  pretty  girl  —  " 

"  Well  —  "  said  Mrs.  Pr3rmmer,  in  an  icy  voice. 


r^ 


26 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Her  son  had  paused;  it  was  intensely  distasteful 
to  him  to  give  her  this  account  of  his  journey,  and 
he  was  only  urged  to  it  by  a  strict  sense  of  duty. 
But  not  for  worlds  would  he  describe  to  her  or  to 
any  one  living  his  sensations  on  first  meeting  the 
girl  who  had  become  his  wife.  Through  half-shut 
eyes  he  gazed  at  his  mother,  his  memory  busy  re- 
calling the  scene  on  the  California  beach,  —  the 
dripping,  glistening  sea-nymph  dancing  over  the 
sands  in  her  short  frock  and  black  stockings,  her 
face  radiant,  her  teeth  shining,  her  slender  feet 
spuming  the  ground,  her  whole  being  so  instinct 
with  life  and  happiness  that  she  seemed  to  be  an 
incarnation  of  perpetual  grace  and  motion. 

She  danced  to  meet  him  and  he  —  stiff,  awkward 
—  had  stood  motionless,  struck  with  admiration,  his 
whole  soul  for  the  first  time  prostrate  before  femi- 
nine graces  and  perfection. 

But  he  must  continue  his  recital,  and,  rousing  him- 
self with  an  effort,  he  went  on.  "Her  father  said, 
'  Derrice,  this  is  Mr.  Mercer,*  and  she  shook  hands 
with  me.  Then  he  asked  her  to  go  out  and  let  me 
see  how  well  she  could  swim.  She  rushed  into  the 
breakers  —  They  are  very  high  out  there  and  come 
in  in  three  rows  howling  and  plunging  like  dogs,  and 
throwing  up  spray  half  as  high  as  this  house.  She 
dived  through  one  line  and  another  and  another,  then 
we  saw  her  head  rising  beyond  them.    After  a  time 


eful 
and 
luty. 
>r  to 
;  the 
-shut 
y  re- 
-the 
•    the 
i,  her 
■    feet 
istinct 
be  an 

irkward 
on,  his 
femi- 

ig  him- 
said, 
hands 
let  me 
nto  the 
d  come 
>gs,  and 
She 
er,  then 
a  time 


;r 


"♦DERRICE,    THIS    IS    MR.    MERCER.' 


I 


AN  UNEXPECTED  DAUGHTER-IN-LAW. 


27 


I  wondered  why  she  didn't  come  in,  but  no  one  else 
seemed  uneasy.  The  other  young  people  had  sat 
down  on  the  hot  sand,  and  her  father  was  taken  up 
with  pride  in  her  strength,  when  some  one  waved  a 
marine  glass  from  the  hotel  veranda  and  cried,  *The 
tide  has  turned,  —  Miss  Derrice  can't  get  in,  she  has 
been  floating  for  some  time.'  " 

Justin  stopped  again,  and  once  more  lived  over  his 
brief  experience  on  the  shores  of  the  Pacific,  —  the 
quick  agony  of  the  father  who  turned  and  measured 
the  strength  of  the  young  men  before  him,  their 
responsive  looks  as  they  ran  like  deer  down  the 
beach  to  launch  a  boat,  the  cries  of  consternation  of 
the  girls  as  they  hurried  into  the  sea  and  stretched 
out  helpless  hands,  and  the  furious  beating  and 
protesting  of  his  own  heart  at  the  sudden  snatching 
of  his  newly  found  treasure  from  him  by  the  cruel 
sea.  He  would  recover  her  alone  and  unaided,  or 
he  would  die  with  her,  and,  tearing  off  his  boots  and 
coat,  he  had  plunged  through  the  rows  of  indignant 
breakers  that  slapped  and  buffeted  him  until  he 
reached  a  region  of  calm  where  warm  waves  lapped 
his  throat  and  playfully  tried  to  blind  his  eyes  with 
spray.  In  deliberate  haste,  for  he  was  strong  and 
broad  of  limb,  he  had  hurried  to  the  spot  where  she 
lay  rising  and  fdling  on  the  water,  her  face  like  a 
lily-bud,  her  limbs  stretched  out  like  folded  leaves. 
The  glare  of  the  sun^  the  brass  of  the  sky,  his  steady. 


28 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


cool  head,  his  beating  heart,  the  look  the  girl  gave 
him  when  she  raised  her  head  from  the  waves  as 
from  a  pillow,  —  to  his  dying  day  he  would  never 
forget  it  all,  and  he  grew  pale  at  the  remembrance. 

His  musings  were  interrupted  by  his  mother's 
harsh  voice,  "  Why  couldn't  she  get  in  ? " 

"When  the  tide  turns  the  undertow  is  frightful. 
Several  drowning  accidents  had  occurred  there,  it 
being  a  hard  place  to  launch  a  boat,  and  as  the 
bathing  season  had  not  begun,  the  life-saving  appli- 
ances were  not  in  readiness.'* 

Mrs.  Prymmer  asked  no  question  for  a  time,  but 
encouraged  by  a  gleam  of  sympathy  on  her  face, 
Justin  observed,  dryly,  "She  was  afraid  we  could 
not  get  out  to  her,  and  she  was  repeating  poetry  to 
keep  herself  from  losing  her  presence  of  mind." 

"  I  guess  she  wasn't  much  frightened,"  observed 
Mrs.  Prymmer,  hardening  her  heart  again. 

"She  has  a  good  deal  of  nerve,"  said  Justin, 
quietly.     "  She  doesn't  look  it,  but  she  has." 

"  Well,  they  must  have  got  her  in,"  said  his  mother, 
impatiently,  "  as  she  is  here ;  how  did  they  do  it  ? " 

"I  swam  out  and  stayed  by  her,"  he  said,  laconi- 
cally, "  till  the  boat  came.  It  kept  upsetting  in  the 
breakers." 

"  Why  didn't  her  father  go  out }  It  was  a  queer 
thing  to  let  you  risk  your  life." 

"  He  could  not  swim,  and  he  was  paralysed  with 


AN  UNEXPECTED  DAUGHTER-IN-LAW, 


29 


fright."  Justin  lowered  his  eyes,  for  there  was  a 
mist  on  his  glasses.  Ah,  that  meeting  between 
father  and  daughter  when  the  boat  came  in !  He 
had  turned  aside  quickly  from  it,  but  not  quickly 
enough  to  escape  the  expression  in  the  eyes  of  the 
half-fainti.g  man  as  he  held  out  his  arms  to  his 
recovered  daughter. 

"  Did  you  make  up  your  mind  then  to  marry  her } " 
pursued  his  mother,  in  a  voice  so  harsh  that  it  was 
almost  a  croak. 

"  No ;  I  had  already  done  so." 

"  You  were  pretty  quick  about  it.* 

"  I  am  not  always  slow." 

"  And  she  jumped  at  the  chance.' 

"  Not  exactly,"  and,  throwing  back  his  head,  he 
stared  at  her  through  his  glasses.  "If  you  will 
recall  some  of  your  own  experiences  when  in  love, 
you    may   remember    some   of  the   ways   of    your 


*> 


>> 


sex. 

The  obstinate  face  opposite  him  did  not  relax. 
No;  although  she  had  twice  been  wooed  and  suc- 
cessfully won,  his  mother  had  never  felt  in  the 
slightest  degree  the  influence  of  the  gentle  passion. 
She  had  not  the  remotest  conception  of  the  strength 
of  a  loving  attachment  except  as  she  had  felt  it  to  a 
limited  extent  in  the  guise  of  maternal  affection. 
However,  she  was  not  going  to  tell  her  son  this,  so 
she  said,  commandingly,  "  Go  on  with  your  story." 


1r 


30 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  There  isn't  much  more  to  tell.  The  experience 
in  the  sea  had  given  her  a  shock,  and  she  was  pale 
and  quiet  for  a  day  or  two,  then  she  was  all  right 
and  was  about  with  her  father  all  the  time,  and  I  — 
of  course  I  was  there." 

He  stopped  in  a  somewhat  lame  fashion,  and  Mrs. 
Prymmer  said,  scornfully,  "  I  guess  her  father  made 
the  match." 

Justin  maintained  a  discreet  silence.  It  would  be 
sacrilege  to  relate  to  this  unsympathetic  listener  the 
history  of  the  steady,  sharp  oversight  that  the  father 
had  taken  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  his  daughter. 
Justin  would  not  tell  her  that  Mr.  Lancaster  had 
spoken  first,  —  that  one  day  he  had  turned  to  him 
with  an  abrupt,  "You  love  my  daughter,  don't 
you } " 

Mrs.  Prymmer  would  only  sneer  if  she  should  be 
told  that  her  son's  voice  had  trembled  as  he  had 
answered,  "Yes,"  and  that  his  cheek  had  burned 
under  the  glance  of  Mr.  Lancaster's  keen  eyes.  Nor 
would  he  favour  ber  with  an  account  of  his  love- 
making  to  the  sr.oiled  and  wayward  Derrice.  It 
would  not  inspire  his  mother  with  the  same  intensity 
of  interest  with  which  it  had  inspired  her  son. 
Therefore  he  remained  thoughtful  until  she  broke 
the  silence  by  an  accusation  that  goaded  him  into  a 
response.  "  You  promised  your  father  when*he  died 
that  you  would  take  care  of  me." 


A^T  UNEXPECTED  DAUGHTER-IN-LAW. 


31 


"  I  know  I  did.  I  have  married  the  only  woman 
I  have  ever  seen  who  would  not  be  jealous  of  a 
mother's  appropriation  of  a  son." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  thought  over  this  sentence  and 
decided  that  it  contained  an  innuendo.  "  You  must 
choose  between  us,"  she  said,  angrily,  "a  man  must 
leave  father  and  mother,  and  cleave  to  his  wife." 

"  I  know  it.  I  should  be  the  last  one  to  gainsay 
instructions  ifrom  the  Bible." 

"My  house  is  not  large  enough  for  both,"  she 
continued,  "  I  never  wanted  a  daughter-in-law.  You 
have  forced  one  on  me." 

"You  are  considerably  upset  to-night,  mother," 
he  said,  gently.  "  I  ought  to  have  warned  you  of  my 
marriage  by  telegram,  but  I  thought  I  had  rather 
break  it  to  you  myself ;  you  had  better  think  over 
the  matter  of  our  leaving  your  house." 

Her  house,  yes,  it  certainly  was  hers ;  for  she 
had  taken  good  care  that  her  first  husband  should 
leave  her  in  possession  of  all  his  worldly  goods,  and 
that  their  son  should  be  dependent  on  her.  How- 
ever, she  was  not  devoid  of  feeling,  and  she  knew 
Justin  was  net  thinking  of  losing  the  shelter  of  her 
roof,  but  rather  of  the  sundering  of  the  close  ties 
between  them,  and,  as  this  thought  presented  itself, 
her  shrewd  and  calculating  mind  recalled  the  hand- 
some gown  of  her  daughter-in-law,  and  the  costly  fur 
cloak  slipping  from  her  shoulders. 


T  IT 


i 


32 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


■Ir 

3 


"  Is  that  Mr.  Lancaster  as  rich  as  folks  say  ? "  she 
asked,  with  a  softening  of  her  tone. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  briefly. 

"  I  suppose  if  anything  happened  to  her  you  would 
get  his  money." 

Justin  surveyed  her  in  such  austere  disapproba- 
tion that  she  was  daunted,  and  stammered,  "  You 
are  so  queer  about  money,  •^— your  business  is  to  han- 
dle it,  yet  you  haven't  any  respect  for  it,  not  a 
mite.     You  fling  good  money  after  bad." 

Justin  understood  her  reference,  and  knew  that 
it  afforded  him  just  grounds  for  a  retort,  yet  he  con- 
tented himself  with  a  silent  stare  at  her  until  she 
went  on,  meekly,  "  You  needn't  take  your  wife  away 
for  a  day  or  two.  I  will  make  it  a  subject  of  prayer, 
and  if  the  Lord  directs,  of  course  you  will  have  to 
stay." 

"Of  course." 

Her  resentment  did  not  return  to  her,  although 
h^'s  tone  was  ironical.  He  had  oftended  her  terribly, 
this  inflexible  young  son  of  hers,  and  even  though 
the  new  member  of  their  family  was  ushered  in  with 
the  glamour  of  wealth  about  her,  this  was  but  a  salve, 
a  flattering  ointment  for  a  grievous  wound.  But  after 
all,  he  was  her  son,  her  only  son,  and  her  mother's 
heart  was  touched  as  she  got  up  to  leave  him. 

"Justin,"  she  said,  and  though  she  was  not  moved 
enough  for  tears,  a  little  —  a  very  little  —  whimper 


AN  ONEXPECTED  DAUGHTER-IN-LAW, 


3S 


came  at  her  bidding,  "you  have  broken  my  heart, 
but  I  forgive  you." 

«  No,  mother,  not  broken,"  he  said,  also  rising  and 
laying  a  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"Yes,  broken,"  she  persisted;  "but  you  are  my 
boy.    Don't  —  don't  let  her  take  you  away  from  me." 

"Mother,  am  I  likely  to  forget  the  long  years 
that  we  have  spent  here  together ;  the  sicknesses 
you  have  nursed  me  through?" 

"  No,  no,  I  can  trust  you,"  and  she  deposited  her 
thick  head  of  hair  on  his  breast ;  "  but  what  made 
you  marry  that  chit  of  a  thing?  She  looks  as  if 
she  hadn't  done  growing.  Now  if  it  had  been  a 
woman  —  " 

"  She  is  Older  than  she  looks,"  he  said,  with  a  smile, 
"  and  she  will  be  more  tractable  than  a  woman,  and 
it  was  either  •  take  her  or  lose  her.'  Her  father  is  a 
man  of  decision." 

"  And  you  —  you  like  her  ? "  said  Mrs.  Prymmer, 
raising  her  head. 

He  gently  put  her  aside,  and  his  face  grew  crim- 
son.    "  I  love  her,"  he  said,  shortly. 

Mrs.  Prymmer  went  slowly  from  the  room.  She 
was  confused  in  her  mind,  and  falling  on  her  knees 
by  her  bedside  she  wrestled  in  agitated  prayer  for  a 
blessing  on  her  son,  a  judgment  on  her  daughter-in- 
law,  and  miraculous  strength  for  herself,  to  bear  this 
new  and  heavy  cross  that  had  been  laid  upon  her. 


CHAPTER  III. 


TO   HIM   THE   WORLD    WAS    GAY. 


Captain  White  was  just  getting  home.  For 
twenty  years  he  had  boarded  with  his  cousin,  Mrs. 
Hippolyta  Prymmer,  and  now  neither  the  rjeai  nros 
pect  of  seeing  her  again  after  an  absence  o^i  oorne 
months,  nor  any  dislike  for  a  smart  rain  that  had 
begun  to  fall,  made  him  quicken  his  footsteps  as  he 
sauntered  deliberately  along  the  concrete  sidewalks 
of  the  little  town. 

He  was  r,  short,  dark  man,  with  a  slender  bod),  a 
pair  of  waggish,  twinkling,  black  eyes,  a  sleek,  dark 
head,  and  an  ever  present  smell  of  fish  about  his 
garments.  By  fish  he  breathed  and  moved  and  had 
his  being,  and  from  the  instant  that  the  profitubk 
herring  was  drawn  from  its  native  element,  Captaui 
White  hung  over  it,  superintending  every  detail  of 
its  curing*,  preparation,  and  shipping,  for  heme  and 
foreign  markets. 

Being  a  retired  sea-captain  and  present  fish  mer- 
chant, his  duties  were  supposed  to  end  with  the 
placing  of  a  cargo  of  fish  on  board  a  vessel,  ]}ut  at 

34 


TO  HIM  THE   WORLD    WAS  GAY. 


SS 


times  h.!S  affection  for  his  old  employment  would 
break  forth  so  strongly  that,  without  a  word  of  warn- 
ing to  Mrs.  Prymmer,  he  would  precipitate  himself 
upon  a  departing  schooner,  and  the  town  of  Rossi- 
gnol  would  know  him  not  for  a  month  or  two. 

It  was  after  one  of  these  hasty  departures  that  he 
was  now  returning.  .He  strolled  along  the  lower 
streets  of  the  town,  his  fun-loving  eyes  rolling  in- 
quiringly at  every  one  he  met,  his  hands  in  the 
pockets  of  his  short  nautical  jacket,  his  elbows  sway- 
ing gently  like  two  pectoral  fins  propelling  him 
through  the  air,  until  he  arrived  below  the  old  stone 
mansion,  when  he  drew  his  hands  from  his  pockets, 
ran  briskly  up  the  three  short  flights  of  steps,  and 
rang  the  bell. 

"  How  de  do,  Mary,"  he  said,  briefly,  to  the  maid 
when  she  opened  the  door. 

Upon  ordinary  occasions  he  never  spoke  to  her. 
This  greeting  was  reserved  for  the  important  event 
of  his  return  from,  a  voyage. 

Mary  smiled^,  and,  not  daring  to  return  his  saluta- 
tion lest  she  should  incur  a  reprimand  from  the 
highest  authority  in  the  house  for  undue  familiarity 
with  the  masculine  part  of  it,  made  haste  to  disap- 
pear down  a  back  stairway. 

Captain  White  shook  himself,  thereby  scattering 
a  shower  of  wet  on  the  oil-cloth  of  the  floor,  hung  up 
his  cap,  and  walked  down  the  hall  to  the  dining-room. 


I'- 


36 


DEFtCIBNT  SAWTS. 


**  I'll  find  them  just  the  same  as  usual,  I  suppose/' 
he  muttered,  giving  a  slap  to  his  sleek  head  that 
always  looked  as  if  he  had  just  dipped  it  in  water, 
"  same  old  table,  same  old  chairs  around  it,  same  old 
fire,  same  old  girl  with  same  old  stocking  or  same 
old  death-book." 

He  opened  the  door.  Yes,  there  she  sat,  her 
thick  hair  parted  decently  in  the  middle,  her  black 
gown  decently  disposed  about  her  portly  figure,  her 
lips  decently  compressed,  her  fingers  clicking  the 
needles  of  the  knitting  with  which  she  invariably 
disciplined  or  amused  herself  during  the  successive 
evenings  of  her  life,  her  eyes  fixed  on  her  son,  who 
sat  in  a  loose  coat  and  carpet  slippers,  diligently 
reading  the  evening  paper  as  Captain  White  had 
seen  him  read  it  a  thousand  times  before. 

The  very  fire  was  crackling  as  it  had  crackled  ever 
since  he  had  had  acquaintance  with  this  hearthstone. 
He  could  even  tell  the  hour  of  the  evening  by  it,  for 
Mrs.  Prymmer  from  motives  of  economy  always 
started  it  with  wood  but  continued  it  with  coal.  It 
was  now  just  eight  o'clock,  for  the  wood  was  n'^arly 
gone.  A  match  had  been  touched  to  it  at  seven 
precisely,  and  at  a  quarter  to  eight  a  shovelful  of 
coal  had  been  lifted  on  it  by  the  careful  hand  of  his 
cousin. 

"Well,  Micah,"  she  said,  deliberately,  "you  have 
got  back." 


TO  HIM  THE    WORLD    WAS  GAY. 


37 


Captain  White  did  not  answer  her.  It  did  not 
seem  worth  while  to  confirm  a  statement  that  bore 
truth  on  the  face  of  it,  and  moreover  he,  though  a 
man  possessing  a  fair  amount  of  composure,  was 
completely  dumbfounded  by  his  discovery  of  a  curi- 
ous addition  to  this  hitherto  contracted  family 
circle. 

The  big  family  lounge,  commonly  pushed  away  in 
a  corner,  was  drawn  up  near  the  fire,  and  on  it,  com- 
fortably surrounded  by  cushions,  reclined  a  girl  who 
was  not  a  Rossignol  girl,  nor  anything  approaching  to 
a  Rossignol  giri,  as  far  as  Captain  White  could  make 
out.  She  had  been  reading  and  had  fallen  asleep 
over  her  book,  and  she  lay  like  a  beautiful  statue 
while  Justin  and  his  mother  were  apparently  paying 
no  more  attention  to  her  than  if  she  really  were 
something  without  life. 

Captain  White  rubbed  his  hand  across  his  eyes 
and  looked  again.  The  girl  was  still  there,  and,  with 
a  puzzled  expression  of  face  equivalent  to  a  spoken 
"  I  give  it  up,"  he  sat  down  beside  the  door,  one  of 
his  peculiarities  being  a  reluctance  to  approach  a 
fire. 

"  How  are  you,  Micah  ? "  said  Justin,  laconically. 

"  First-rate,"  responded  Captain  White,  "  and  how's 
yourself  ? " 

'» All  right." 

"You  don't  look  it." 


m 


38 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  I've  been  away.  I  guess  a  long  jourrey  doesn't 
agree  with  me." 

"  Where  have  you  been } " 

"To  California." 

"  To  California ! "  exclaimed  Captain  White,  in  a 
surprise  that  was  ludicrous,  and  his  gaze  again  went 
to  the  girl  as  if  seeking  from  her  a  reason  for  this 
extraordinary  departure  on  the  part  of  his  hitherto 
home-loving  cousin. 

Justin's  eyes  went  with  him,  then,  to  the  further 
mystification  of  Captain  White,  the  young  man's  face 
took  on  an  expression  more  soft,  more  tender,  than 
any  that  he  had  ever  seen  there  before,  while  he 
murmured  some  unintelligible  remark  below  his 
breath. 

There  was  a  change,  too,  in  Mrs.  Prymmer.  She 
had  laid  down  her  knitting,  and  her  mouth  was  slowly 
opening  and  shutting  as  it  had  a  habit  of  doing  when 
she  was  surprised  or  deeply  moved,  and  before  it 
settled  down  to  the  firm  compression  of  displeasure. 

Captain  White's  glance  wandered  to  the  third 
member  of  this  eccentric  family  circle.  There  was 
a  change  in  her,  too.  The  Sleeping  Beauty  was  wak- 
ing up.  With  a  yawn  and  a  little  stretch  of  her 
rounded  limbs,  she  had  lifted  the  heavy  lids  of 
her  light  blue  eyes,  and  was  staring  at  him  with  a 
curious  intentness  of  gaze  that  reminded  him,  in 
a  casual  w.y,  of  the  expression  he  had  seen  on  the 


TO  HFM   THE    WORLD    WAS  GAY. 


39 


faces  of  children  who  were  grappling  with  and  about 
to  seize  upon  some  problem  hitherto  beyond  their 
solution. 

"Derrice,"  said  Justin,  quietly,  "this  is  Cousin 
Micah." 

She  was  smiling  at  him  now,  gently  and  wistfully, 
and,  like  a  baby  learning  to  walk,  was  slowly  putting 
her  small  feet  to  the  floor,  trying  them,  as  if  doubt- 
ful whether  she  could  stand  on  them. 

A  flood  of  benevolence  came  over  Captain  White. 
"  Give  her  a  hand,"  he  said  to  Justin.  "  Steady  her 
off  that  lounge." 

The  young  man  drew  back.  "  Go  yourself,  Micah. 
You  have  aroused  her." 

Justin's  tone  was  distinctly  mischievous,  and  Cap- 
tain White's  surprised  eyes  forgot  to  twinkle  and 
went  in  a  maze  of  bewilderment  toward  Mrs.  Prym- 
mer,  whose  countenance  was  slowly  taking  on  a 
frozen  aspect. 

Who  was  this  girl,  who  was  alternately  stopping 
and  advancing  in  a  peculiar  kind  of  a  walk  that  he 
had  never  seen  before  off  the  stage?  Perhaps  she 
was  some  actress  who,  for  reasons  best  known  to 
herself,  had  descended  upon  his  puritanical  cousins. 
Well,  he  had  never  yet  run  from  a  woman,  and  he 
didn't  propose  to  do  so  now,  and,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  he  stood  up  and  manfully  awaited  her 
approach. 


w 


40 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Nov/  she  was  sentimental.  There  was  a  tear  in 
her  eye,  and  her  lip  was  trembling,  as  she  stretched 
out  her  hand  to  him.  "  Captain  White,  I  am  glad  to 
see  you.  It  was  stupid  in  me  to  fall  asleep  over  my 
book.  I  would  have  kept  awake  if  I  had  known  you 
were  coming." 

"Say  something  sympathetic,  can't  you.?"  said 
Justin,  stepping  forward,  and  whispering  in  his  ear. 

"  Bless  my  heart  and  soul,  how  can  W*  ejaculated 
Captain  White.  "  Now,  if  I  had  her  alone  — "  and 
confusedly  folding  his  arms,  he  retired  to  his  seat. 

To  Justin's  irrepressible  delight,  his  young  wife, 
in  a  state  of  utter  fascination,  drew  nearer  to  the 
rough-coated  stranger.  "  You  go  away  from  home  a 
good  deal,  don't  you .? "  she  said,  wistfully.  "  I  hope 
that  you  will  be  able  to  stay  with  us  now." 

"  Now,  for  ihe  love  of  mercy,"  said  the  sea-faring 
man,  turning  in  quiet  desperation  to  Justin,  and 
speaking  under  his  breath,  "  tell  me  who  this  is .? " 

"  She  is  my  wife,"  said  the  young  man. 

Captain  White  fell  into  a  state  of  speechless  unbe- 
lief until  he  found  confirmation  of  the  announcement 
in  the  expression  of  Mrs.  Prymmer's  face.  Justin 
must  indeed  be  married  to  this  lovely  creature. 
Where  had  he  got  her?  He  rubbed  both  hands 
over  his  smooth  head  and  was  about  to  subside  into 
ctupid  perplexity,  when  he  discovered  that  the  girl's 
face  was  quivering  in  a  pitiful  manner  that  threatened 


TO  HIM  THE   WORLD    WAS  GAY, 


41 


a  feminine  outbreak  of  some  sort.  Her  face  did  not 
belie  its  promise.  In  one  minute  she  had  burst  into 
violent  weeping,  and  Justin,  springing  forward,  was 
leading  her  from  the  room. 

Captain  White  fixed  his  attention  on  the  onl) 
member  of  the  family  left  to  him.  "  Hippolyta,  can 
you  let  a  little  light  in  on  these  queer  proceedings } 
What,  you  are  not  cracked,  too,  —  you,  best  hope  of 
the  elect  in  Rossignol  .^ " 

His  cousin  was,  indeed,  in  a  state  of  collapse.  She 
had  just  seen  tumbling  to  the  ground  a  fragile  house 
of  cards  that  she  had  been  erecting,  or,  rather,  a 
castle  in  Spain,  —  for  she  would  be  shocked  at  the 
mention  of  anything  so  worldly  and  pernicious  as 
bits  of  painted  cardboard  in  connection  with  her 
name.  All  day  long  she  had  contemplated  with  the 
utmost  satisfaction  the  prostration  of  her  daughter- 
in-law  after  her  long  journey.  Derrice  had  lain  in 
bed  till  the  evening ;  she  had  been  on  the  sofa  until 
Captain  White's  arrival.  She  seemed  utterly  over- 
come. Perhaps  it  was  the  will  of  the  Lord  that,  in 
a  short  time,  this  flaxen-haired  doll  should  be  laid 
in  the  grave,  and  she  would  then  again  have  her  son 
to  herself.  Now,  in  some  unaccountable  way,  the 
girl  had  been  roused  to  unusual  animation  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  Captain  Wl^.ite.  Her  cheeks  had  flushed, 
she  had  seemed  interested  and  pleased.  This  fit  of 
tears  was  but  a  manifestation  of  temper,  —  "girls' 


42 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


II 


tricks,"  she  muttered,  angrily.  The  will  of  the  Lord 
was  not  to  have  her  sicken  and  die,  —  it  was  clash- 
ing with  her  will,  with  hers,  acknowledged  saint,  the 
most  devout  woman  in  the  town  of  Rossignol. 
There  was  something  radically  wrong  with  the 
order  of  things,  and  she  felt  stunned,  and  in  no 
condition  to  talk. 

One  or  two  ineffectual  attempts  she  made  to 
answer  her  cousin's  inquiries,  then,  with  a  ponderous 
and  unsteady  step,  she  rushed  from  the  room. 

Captain  White  stretched  his  lean  neck  around  the 
door-post.  "  She's  off  on  a  gale  with  passion  for  her 
sail.  Never  saw  such  queer  doings  in  this  house 
before.  That  lass  has  doddered  them,  —  guess  I'll 
get  something  to  eat.  In  every  sudden  squall  of 
life,  fortify  yourself  by  a  visit  to  the  pantry.  It's 
wonderful  how  the  stomach  backs  up  your  sta)ring 
powers,"  and,  wandering  out  into  the  hall,  he  saun- 
tered down  a  staircase  to  the  lower  part  of  the  house. 

His  brief  warning  ejaculations  of  "  Hey  !  Hist ! 
Hello ! "  at  the  kitchen  door  not  being  answered, 
he  pushed  it  open  and  walked  in,  saying,  "Just  as 
I  thought.  She's  off.  Never  saw  such  a  house; 
whenever  they've  nothing  to  do  they  sneak  off  to 
bed." 

Adjoining  the  kitchen  was  a  small  pantry  where 
Captain  White  was  soon  standing  beside  sparsely 
laiien   shelves.      There  was   nothing  on  the  lower 


-^^s 


TO  HIM  THE    WORLD    WAS  GAY. 


43 


ones  worthy  of  his  famished  condition  but  a  beef 
bone  destined  for  the  soup  pot  on  the  morrow. 
This  he  seized,  and  while  gnawing  the  meat  from 
it  with  his  strong  sailor's  teeth  that  had  been  sharp- 
ened  during  the  early  part  of  his  life  by  attacks  on 
salt  junk  and  hard  tack,  his  scintillating  eyes  flashed 
longingly  up  to  the  top  shelf  where  stood  an  inviting 
procession  of  newly  baked  mince  pies. 

"  Most  women  wouldn't  make  soup  of  that  bone," 
he  said,  as  he  rapped  a  tune  on  the  shelf  wit!i  the 
denuded  bone,  "  but  it's  a  chance  if  Hippolyta  doesn't 
wash  and  dress  ii  and  put  it  in  a  pot  and  make  a 
liquor  that  we'll  drink  and  all  go  stagjgering  about 
with  weakness  from  it.  Clever  woman  that.  Most 
women  would  have  wasted  a  supper  on  me  to-night, 
but  she  never  thought  of  it.  However,  I'm  not  one 
to  sing  sour  grapes.  Here  goes,"  and  being  too 
short  to  reach  the  pies  he  drew  up  his  legs,  sprang 
in  the  air  like  a  jack-in-the-box  and  seized  one  of 
them. 

"  It's  a  good  big  pie,  but  I  can  manage  a  quarter," 
he  said,  and  drawing  a  clasp-knife  from  his  vest  he 
cut  out  a  wedge-shaped  piece  that  he  transferred  by 
slow  degrees  to  his  mouth.  "  That's  a  superfine  pie," 
he  said,  presently,  "  but  flat,  —  on  account  of  me,  poor 
miserable  sinner,"  and  rolling  his  glance  upward,  he 
drew  a  flask  from  the  breast  of  his  coat  and  sprinkled 
a  part  of  its  contents  over  the  pie. 


44 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


ii! 


In  a  few  minutes  the  entire  pie  was  disposed  of, 
and  he  was  deep  in  another.  "Guess  I'd  better 
stop,"  he  said,  presently,  "  or  a  herring  with  a  mouth 
as  big  as  a  church  will  swallow  me  to-night.  Is 
there  any  further  iniquity  I  can  commit.?  Cousin 
Hippolyta  can't  be  any  madder  than  she  will  be  when 
she  sees  those  empty  plates  —  Oh,  here's  the  cream 
for  breakfast.  I'll  drink  that,"  and  he  seized  a  flat- 
bottomed  dish  and  carried  it  to  his  mouth. 

"  Now  seeing  I've  been  as  bad  as  I  can  be,"  he 
said,  after  he  had  chased  a  remaining  skin  of  cream 
around  the  dish  until  he  had  caught  it  with  his  little 
finger,  "  I'll  go  above.  I  wish  I  could  put  this  thing 
on  Mi.ry,"  and  he  set  one  plate  inside  a  ^er, 
"  but  even  if  this  crockery  was  found  in  her  pocket, 
they'd  get  after  me.  Mary  is  a  church-member,  and 
I'm  a  reprobate,"  and  wiping  his  creamy  lips  and  gaily 
humming,  "We  were  three  jolly  sailors,"  he  went 
up-stairs. 

He  found  the  parlour  deserted.  The  fire  that  he 
had  left  burning  cheerily  was  now  sulking  under 
a  heap  of  ashes,  and  the  lights  were  turned  out,  — 
sure  proofs  that  his  Cousin  Hippolyta,  supposing  him 
to  be  in  bed,  had  descended  and  made  preparations 
for  the  night. 

"Just  nine  o'clock,"  he  said,  leaning  over  the 
grate  to  examine  his  battered  silver  watch  by  a 
persevering  gleam  of  firelight.      "I   wonder   what 


TO  HIM  THE   WORLD   WAS  GAY. 


45 


Justin  is  doing.     I'll  take  an  observation,"  and  he 
went  up-stairs  on  tiptoe. 

Tie  door  of  a  small  dressing-room  adjoining 
Justin's  bedroom  stood  open,  and  Captain  White, 
who  possessed  an  uncommon  sharpness  of  hearing, 
thought  that  he  detected  a  faint  noise  as  he  peered 
in. 

"  Hello,  Justin,  are  you  there } "  he  whispered. 

"Yes,"  said  the  young  man,  leaving  the  dark 
window  where  he  was  standing  and  coming  out  into 
the  dimly  lighted  hall. 

"  Won't  she  let  you  in  > " 

"She  isn't  here,  Micah." 

"  Where  do  you  keep  her }  ** 

"  On  the  flat  above  you." 

"Up  with  Mary  —  in  the  attic.  What's  that 
for  > " 

"  Well  —  you  might  be  able  to  guess  if  you  tried," 
said  the  young  man,  and  he  glanced  toward  the  closed 
door  of  his  mother's  room. 

"  H'm  —  doesn't  want  to  be  too  near  her  mother- 
in-law,"  reflected  Captain  White.  Then  he  seized  Jus- 
tin by  the  arm  as  if  he  were  a  prisoner.  "Come 
up  to  my  den." 

Marching  him  up  another  flight  of  stairs,  he  con- 
ducted him  to  a  front  room.  "  There,  now,"  he  said, 
"  sit  down.  I  know  that  Morris  chair  is  in  the  exact 
place  I  left  it,  in  this  well-rigged  house.     I  can  give 


1  !  I 


■-^^    I 


■:l!ii'!| 


46 


DEFICIEN7   SAINTS. 


you  a  push  that  will  land  you  in  it,  though  I  can't  see 
a  thing  with  those  confounded  curtains  down.  You'd 
better  keep  on  your  feet,  though,  till  I  strike  a  light. 
Your  mother'd  get  after  me  if  I  broke  one  of  your 
legs.  Jemima  Jane,  here  v/e  are  as  snug  as  pos- 
sible," and  he  turned  up  two  gas-jets  to  the  extent 
of  their  lighting  ability,  and  then,  dropping  into  a 
chair,  reached  out  his  hand  to  a  drawer  and  took 
from  it  a  pipe. 

Justin,  who  did  not  smoke,  took  off  his  glasses 
and  indulged  in  his  frequent  occupation  of  polishing 
them  with  his  handkerchief,  blinking  his  eyes  mean- 
while in  the  strong  light. 

"  How  Did  are  you  ? "  asked  Captain  White,  as  he 
stuffed  his  pipe  full  of  tobac  o. 

"Thirty." 

"  Lack-a-daisy,  it  seems  only  the  other  day  you 
were  born." 

Justin  did  not  reply  to  him.  He  was  not  much 
of  a  talker  at  any  time,  and  at  present  he  was  in 
a  reflective  condition  of  mind  in  which  he  did  not 
care  to  discuss  any  subject,  not  even  the  circum- 
stances connected  with  his  own  birth. 

"You  have  known  me  for  a  long  time,"  said 
Captain  White,  brusquely,  "do  you  happen  to  put 
any  kind  of  trust  in  me  ? " 

Justin  struggled  out  of  his  reverie.  "  Yes,  Micah, 
you  know  1  do." 


TO  HIM  THE   WORLD   WAS  GAY. 


47 


"  Then  for  goodness'  sake  tell  me  what  has  brought 
this  change  in  you,  for,  hang  me,  if  you  didn't  look 
like  all  the  minor  prophets  rolled  in  one  when  I  went 
away.  My  namesake,  and  Habakkuk  and  Malachi 
and  all  the  rest,  would  have  appeared  like  grinning 
idiots  alongside  of  you,  and  now  I  have  actually  seen 
your  teeth  six  times  since  I  entered  this  blessed 
door." 

Justin  not  only  favoured  him  with  another  sight 
of  his  big  white  teeth,  that  were  set  slafe-like  in  his 
square  jaw,  but  he  burst  into  a  low,  hearty  laugh. 

"  I  guess  it  must  be  dolly,  Micah." 

"  That's  your  wife." 

"Yes,  she's  my  wife  fast  enough." 

"  Did  you  marry  her  in  California  ? " 

«  Yes." 

"  When  did  you  get  back  ? " 

"  Yesterday." 

"  What  sent  you  there  ? " 

*'Mr.  Lancaster  was  there;  he  telegraphed  for 
me ;  she  is  his  daughter." 

Captain  White  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth, 
uttered  a  low,  significant  whistle,  and  measured 
Justin  with  a  penetrating  glance,  but  he  asked  no 
more  questions,  not  being  one  to  pry  into  another 
man's  secrets. 

"  Your  mother  seems  a  trifle  put  out,"  he  observed, 
after  a  time. 


4^ 


r>£FlCtENT  SAINTS. 


w 


;  !   ,  .  ;;l 


"  Natutally  she  would  be,"  replied  Justin,  signifi- 
cantly. 

Captain  White  in  his  turn  began  to  laugh,  at 
first  silently  and  noiselessly,  then  with  such  a  hearty 
and  irrepressible  explosion  that  Justin  gazed  at  him 
in  some  astonishment. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  the  elder  man,  waving  his  pipe, 
apologetically,  "but  it  makes  me  curl  up  inside  to 
think  of  you  as  a  married  man,  you,  a  brat  of  a  boy. 
I  don't  think  I'm  old  enough  yet  to  launch  myself 
in  the  narrow  matrimonial  boat,  and  I've  seen  craft 
of  all  kinds  sail  in  and  out  of  this  Bay  for  over  fifty 
years." 

"  I'm  not  young,  —  I'm  old,"  muttered  the  young 
man,  suddenly  getting  up  and  stretching  out  his 
arms,  "and  I'm  tired  from  that  pull  across  the 
continent.     I  guess  I'll  go  to  bed." 

"  Wait  a  bit  —  what  made  your  dolly  cry  to-night  ? 
I  didn't  frighten  her,  did  I  ? " 

"  No  ;  you  reminded  her  of  her  father.  She's  been 
grieving  all  day  'or  him." 

"  Her  father  —  do  I  look  like  him  .? " 

"  I  never  thought  so  till  you  came  in  this  evening. 
When  she  saw  the  resemblance  I  caught  it.  You 
are  like  him,  only  his  hair  isn't  quite  as  smooth  as 
yours,  and  he  is  taller,  but  he  wears  dark  clothes 
like  yours,  and  he  is  lean  and  swarthy-complexioned, 
and  he  has  small  eyes  —  " 


TO  HIM  THE    WORLD    JVA6    GAY. 


49 


«  Small  eyes  —  "  repeated  Captain  White. 

His  companion  did  not  hear  him.  He  had  sprung 
up  with  the  utmost  celerity,  and  had  hurried  to  the 
hall  and  up  the  next  staircase  to  the  floor  above, 
from  whence  there  had  been  a  sound  of  something 
falling. 

"  It's  against  orders  to  leave  that  door  open  when 
I  smoke,"  said  Captain  White,  following  him  ;  "how- 
ever, the  family  is  a  trifle  upset  to-night,  and  I  might 
as  well  be  hanged  for  a  sailor  as  a  cabin-boy,"  and 
he  continued  to  embrace  affectionately  with  his  lips 
the  stem  ot  his  well-worn  pipe,  while  he  paced 
defiantly  up  and  down  the  hall. 

"  What  was  the  trouble  ? "  he  asked,  when  Justin 
came  presently  down  the  steps. 

'*  She  upset  a  table  with  a  jug  of  water  on  it  and 
wet  her  feet." 

"  You  get  a  girl  in  the  house  and  you'll  have  to 
dance  attendance  on  her,  young  man.  Has  she  got 
comfortable  quarters  up  there  ? " 

"  Yes ;  we  moved  some  furniture  into  those  two 
empty  front  rooms,  and  I'm  going  to  get  her  some 
more  things." 

"  Why  didn't  you  marry  a  Rossignol  girl  ?  Judg- 
ing from  the  eye-snap  I  had  at  this  one,  she's  about 
as  much  out  of  your  line  of  life  as  the  admiral  of  a 
fleet  is  out  of  mine." 

"  I  guess  all  girls  have  spoiled  ways,  Micab." 


ill  I 


50 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


m 


"  Oh,  hooks  and  ninepins  —  what  a  baby  you  are, 
Justin,"  and  Captain  White  wagged  his  head  and 
burst  into  an  uneasy  chuckling  laugh.  "  You  don't 
know  any  more  about  women  than  a  moon-calf,  but 
she'll  teach  you,  lad,  she'll  teach  you." 

Justin  did  not  answer  him.  "Don't  hear  me," 
soliloquised  Captain  White,  "the  muscles  of  his  ears 
are  nearly  tearing  themselves  out  of  place  to  hear  if 
there  is  any  sound  from  that  girl.  Oh,  this  is 
comedy  to  see  young  tombstone-face,  young  blank- 
wall  prancing  to  the  whims  of  a  girl  —  I  might  as 
well  retire  —  he  don't  pay  any  attention  to  me.  I 
guess  I  better  set  my  mind  alarm  for  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  I've  drunk  up  Pretty-face's  cream, 
and  I'll  have  to  rise  early  and  capture  some  milkman. 
I  guess  —  "  and  he  paused  and  raised  one  lean,  hairy 
paw  to  the  ceiling  —  "  that  you  up  there,  young  miss, 
won't  ever  sit  down  and  cry  because  you  threw  this 
old  sardine  a  sweet  smile  for  your  father's  sake,"  and 
with  this  prophetic  remark  he  put  aside  his  pipe, 
and,  stripping  off  his  clothes  with  the  rapidity  of 
lightning,  was  in  two  minutes  in  bed  and  sound 
asleep. 


CHAPTER   IV. 


A   FAVOUR   SOLICITED. 


Mrs.  Prymmer's  next-door  neighbour  was  her 
clergyman,  —  the  Rev.  Bernal  Huntmgton,  pas- 
tor of  the  church  of  the  United  Brethren.  It 
was  an  immense  satisfaction  to  her  to  have  so  near 
the  one  who  ministered  to  her  in  spiritual  things, 
but  whether  it  was  an  equal  satisfaction  to  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Huntington  that  young  man  had  never  been 
heard  to  assert. 

The  third  day  after  Justin's  arrival  home  was 
Sunda),  and  a  solemn  quiet  brooded  over  the  little 
parsonage  standing  half  hidden  in  the  shadow  of  the 
stone  mansion. 

The  services  of  the  day  were  over,  and  the  minis- 
ter had  shut  himself  up  in  his  study.  He  had  preached 
two  moving  sermons,  conducted  a  Bible  class  and 
attended  a  funeral  out  in  the  country.  Probably  he 
was  tired.  Even  his  magnificent  physique  was  capa- 
ble of  fatigue,  and  to  the  minds  of  several  of  his  fair 
parishioners,  whose  thoughts  had  a  trick  of  running 
toward  and  after  him,  he  was  at  the  present  moment 

51 


52 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


pictured  in  a  recumbent  attitude  on  his  haircloth 
sofa,  musing  in  orthodox  fashion  on  the  stirring 
evangeUcal  eloquence  with  which  he  had  that  day 
delighted  the  hearts  of  his  hearers. 

But  the  minister  was  not  resting.  The  sly,  sleepy 
fire  spying  at  him  from  the  small  stove  could  have 
revealed  another  state  of  affairs.  Stealthily  it  watched 
him  as  he  inwardly  raged  to  and  fro  in  the  tiny  room, 
threading  his  way  among  tables  and  chairs,  foot- 
stools, and  heaped-up  books  and  piles  of  manuscript. 
"  Peace,  peace  to  the  weary,"  he  had  been  preaching, 
but  there  was  no  peace  for  his  soul.  He  was  in  the 
throes  of  some  mental  conflict  t'lat  furrowed  his 
handsome  face  with  emotion. 

Not  only  mentally  but  physically  was  he  out  of 
touch  with  his  environment.  The  badly  made  cleri- 
cal coat  hung  scantily  over  his  athletic  figure.  His 
well-shaped  auburn  head  almost  touched  the  low 
ceiling.  He  seemed  like  a  triumphant  wrestler 
thrust  from  the  prize-ring  into  the  deserted  haunt 
of  a  dead  clergyman. 

He  had  taken  the  place  of  a  man  much  older  than 
himself,  a  consistent  saint,  a  model  of  all  the  virtues. 
He  had  just  been  thinking  about  this  man,  and  an 
unutterable  disgust  of  self  oppressed  him.  "Un- 
worthy—  unworthy,"  he  muttered,  "I  must  give  it 
up.     I  shall  leave  here.     This  is  unendurable." 

He  was  stretching  out  his  arms  as  if  to  fly  away 


A   FAVOUR  SOLICITED. 


53 


to  a  more  congenial  atmosphere  when  his  attention 
was  distracted  by  a  clattering  outside  his  door  and 
a  subsequent  exclamation. 

"  Look  out,  my  dear  boy !  I'm  coming ;  what  — 
no  light!"  and  a  little  woman  bearing  a  huge 
bowl  in  her  hands  rushed  in,  and,  stumbling  over 
papers  and  books,  managed  to  deposit  her  burden  on 
the  stove. 

She  was  a  very  commonplace  little  woman.  Her 
age  hovered  about  the  middle  time  of  life,  though 
she  had  a  quick,  alert,  almost  girlish  manner.  Her 
prevailing  colour  was  drab,  —  hair,  dress,  and  com- 
plexion. She  wore  a  black  lace  cap  on  her  head. 
Each  side  of  it  were  pendent  curls  embracing  her 
cheeks  of  dubious  complexion.  Her  eyes  were  bright 
and  sharp,  and  she  had  a  way  of  holding  her  head  well 
up  and  looking  shrewdly  through  her  spectacles  at 
persons  to  whom  she  was  talking,  as  if  to  delude  them 
into  the  belief  that  she  was  a  very  fierce  and  quarrel- 
some little  woman,  a  regular  Tartar,  a  woman  who 
could  neither  be  deceived  nor  beguiled  into  any- 
thing approaching  to  softness  or  amiability  of  be- 
haviour. 

The  young  man  sulking  in  a  comer  of  the  room 
came  forward,  and,  running  his  eyes  over  the  various 
articles  of  furniture,  all  veterans  in  the  service  of 
the  ministry,  chose  for  her  a  green-covered  chair  of 
An  eccentric   shape,   known   to  the  initiated  as  be- 


54 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


ing  fashioned  from  two  barrels  and  stuffed  with 
rags. 

She  shook  her  curls,  and,  waving  him  toward  it, 
perched  herself  on  a  stool  at  a  little  distance. 
"  Make  haste,  and  take  your  gruel.  It's  nice  and 
hot  now,  though  I  had  a  great  time  to  get  the  fire  to 
burn  up.  Rebecca  is  so  forgetful,  —  she  always 
neglects  to  put  fresh  coal  on  before  she  goes  to 
bed." 

"I  don't  want  it,"  he  muttered.  "I'm  not  an 
invalid,  and  I  hate  sloppy  things." 

"  No,  you're  not  an  invalid,  thank  God,  such  as 
my  dear  husband  became,  but  still  you  must  keep 
your  strength  up.  I  don't  know  that  gruel  is  the 
best  thing,"  and  she  doubtfully  scanned  his  hercu- 
lean proportions.  "You  look  as  if  a  joint  of  mea^. 
would  suit  you  better.  There's  some  cold  hash  in 
the  pantry  ;  would  you  like  it .? " 

"  No,  no,"  he  said,  hurriedly  seating  himself,  and 
dipping  a  large  silver  spoon  into  the  gruel.  "  Don't 
trouble  yourself.     I'll  eat  this." 

"  It  doesn't  worry  me  when  you  quarrel  with  your 
food,"  she  said,  in  her  sprightly  way.  "  You  just  do 
it  if  you  want  to ;  I  know  you've  been  used  to  better 
things." 

"This  is  good  enough  for  me,"  he  said,  taking  the 
gruel  with  the  utmost  rapidity  in  order  to  get  quickly 
through  with  it. 


llSijIili 


A   FAVOUR  SOLICITED. 


55 


"  I  often  think  how  good  you  are,"  she  went  on,  in 
a  sweet,  motherly  tone,  "you  are  the  best  of  my 
children." 

"No,  no,"  he  ejaculated,  suddenly  putting  the 
bowl  from  him  and  flinging  himself  out  of  his  chair, 
"not  the  best." 

The  little  woman  gazed  mildly  into  the  corner 
where  he  had  again  tsiken  refuge.  She  could  not 
see  him  plainly.  The  lazy  fire,  that  she  had  stirred, 
had  again  fallen  into  sluggishness  and  slyness.  She 
seized  a  match  from  the  mantel  and  lighted  the  gas 
in  order  that  she  might  the  better  survey  the  cul- 
tured yet  almost  brutal  beauty  of  visage  that  had  so 
strange  an  influence  over  all  her  sex. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  she  pursued,  "  you're  excited. 
You  have  worked  too  hard  to-day.  You  had  better 
go  to  bed." 

"  I  am  not  tired,  I  am  not  excited,  but  I  hate  this 
hypocritical  life  —  " 

She  would  not  allow  him  to  proceed.  "  I  am  not 
listening,"  and  she  put  both  hands  over  her  ears. 
"Come,  n'^w.  and  sit  down  again  and  take  your 
gruel.     I've  got  something  interesting  to  tell  you." 

Like  a  sullen  child  he  allowed  himself  to  be  once 
more  persuaded  mto  a  seat.  She  put  the  bowl  in  his 
hand,  and  with  tears  of  pleasure  glistening  in  her 
sharp  little  eyes  sat  down  and  poured  forth  a  volume 
of  talk. 


56 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


It  was  not,  as  usual,  news  of  the  church  and  con- 
gregation, for  her  mind  was  running  on  the  Prymmer- 
Mercer  household.  Years  ago  Sylvester  Mercer  had 
built  this  house  for  his  beloved  pastor,  her  husband. 
It  was  the  smallest  house  on  the  street,  but  it  was 
comfortable ;  and  ever  since  she  had  come  to  it  as  a 
bride  there  had  been  a  constant  and  friendly  commu- 
nication between  the  two  houses.  The  clergyman 
knev/  all  about  Justin's  journey  to  California,  his  re- 
turn, and  the  dismay  of  Mrs.  Prymmer  at  the  arrival 
of  the  young  wife,  but  he  was  at  all  ^imes  an  absent- 
minded  listener,  and  the  lutle  woman,  fearing  that  he 
had  forgotten  the  story,  was  telling  it  to  him  again. 

"Poor  Mrs.  Prymmer,  I'm  sorry  for  her.  She 
tries  not  to  show  it  too  much,  but  just  fancy  her 
state  of  mind,  —  a  daughter-in-law  to  walk  in  on  her 
so  suddenly.  I  wish,  I  wish,  my  dear  boy,  that  you 
would  call  on  her." 

She  checked  her  busy  tongue  for  a  minute  to 
scrutinise  nervously  her  companion.  It  was  no  ordi- 
nary favour  of  an  ordinary  clergyman  that  she  was 
asking.  This  haughty  apostle  of  peace  was  first  of 
all  a  preacher  of  the  Word.  It  was  tacitly  understood 
between  pastor  and  people,  that  there  should  be 
as  little  communication  as  possible  in  the  way  of 
visiting.  Confidential  communications  were  not  to 
his  liking,  and  this  idiosyncrasy  was  pardoned  in  him 
only  in  view  of  his  being  the  most  remarkable  brand 


A   FAVOUR  SOLICITED. 


57 


snatched  from  the  burning  that  had  ever  been  held 
aloft  in  the  town  of  Rossignol. 

He  knew  that  only  stress  of  circumstances  would 
induce  his  housekeeper  to  ask  such  a  favour  of  him 
as  a  call  at  a  house  where  there  was  to  be  neither  a 
funeral  nor  a  wedding,  and,  holding  this  same  house- 
keeper in  an  affection  that  was  almost  filial,  he  threw 
her  a  glance  that  emboldened  her  to  proceed. 

"You  see,  my  dear  boy,  young  men  will  marry. 
There's  no  use  in  mothers  holding  out ;  but  if  they 
are  smoothed  down  at  first  it  makes  things  a  lot 
easier,  especially  if  the  daughter-in-la\y  has  to  live  in 
the  same  house  with  them." 

"  My  sympathy  is  with  the  daughter-in-law  in  this 
case,"  said  the  young  man,  brusquely. 

"  Mine,  too,"  said  the  little  woman,  then  she  made 
haste  to  qualify  her  remark,  "  but  Mrs.  Prymmer  is 
a  very  thoughtful  woman  ;  only  yesterday  she  brought 
over  two  jars  of  strawberry  preserves." 

Mr.  Huntington  suppressed  a  slight  sneer  as  he 
thought  of  the  absent  Mrs.  Prymmer,  and,  wearily 
trying  to  exhibit  a  little  interest  in  the  subject  in 
order  to  gratify  his  housekeeper,  asked,  "What  is 
the  daughter-in-law  like  }  " 

"  She  is  like  a  wax  doll,"  said  Mrs.  Negus,  promptly, 
"  those  big  ones  you  see  in  shop  windows,  with  yellow 
hair  and  pink  cheeks.  I  have  only  seen  her  for  a 
minute,  though.    I  ran  in  before  church  this  evening, 


58 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


1 


I 


flii! 


i  ;  ilium 

i 


mm 


i! 


inii 


and  Mrs.  Prymmer  let  me  take  a  peep  at  her  as  she 
sat  in  the  parlour  playing  on  the  organ  to  her  hus- 
band. I  couldn't  see  her  eyes.  I  guess  they  are 
blue  —  Dear  me,  this  is  very  frivolous  conversation 
for  an  old  lady  on  Sabbath  Day.  Did  you  have  a 
good  service  out  at  Indian  Gardens  this  evening }  " 

"  Yes,  very  good." 

"  We  had  a  very  poor  preacher  in  your  place.  I 
heard  some  of  the  people  grumbling  because  you 
were  away." 

The  cloud  came  back  to  his  brow.  "If  they 
knew,"  he  said,  passionately,  "if  they  knew  — " 

She  jumped  to  her  small  feet.  "  I  think  I'll  run 
away.  You  ought  to  go  to  bed.  I'll  have  breakfast 
a  little  later  in  the  morning.  You'll  think  about  call- 
ing on  Mrs.  Prymmer .? " 

"No,  not  think  about  it,  I'll  do  it.  It  is  only 
those  social,  prattling  'sits  I  object  to.  I  am  glad 
to  please  you,  —  you,  who  have  been  more  like  a  true 
mother  than  my  —  than  many  mothers  are." 

"Ah,  you  have  a  kind  heart,"  she  said,  slowly 
shaking  her  head,  "a  good,  kind  heart.  You  are  a 
comfort  to  me,  a  great  comfort,  and  I  know  it  will 
also  please  you  to  do  good  to  Mrs.  Prymmer.  She 
has  always  been  so  sore  about  that  Mr.  Lancaster,  — 
and  to  think  that  her  son  should  go  and  marry  his 
daughter." 

At  the  mention  of  Mr.  Lancaster's  name  a  curi- 


A  FAVOUR  SOLICITED. 


59 


ous  gleam  shot  across  Mr.  Huntington's  brown  eyes. 
"  What  Mr.  Lancaster  do  you  mean  } " 

"Dear  me,  you're  the  least  inclined  to  gossip  of 
any  man  I  ever  saw.  Why,  I  heard  Mrs.  Prymmer 
myself  telling  you  all  about  that  rich  man  who  is  so 
odd,  and  who  often  sends  for  Justin  to  go  away  and 
see  him.  Don't  you  know  she  asked  you  not  to 
tell  ? " 

"  I  don't  remember  hearing  of  him." 

"Gossip  just  goes  in  one  ear  and  out  the  other 
with  you,"  she  said,  admiringly.  "  Well,  he's  a  man 
that  —  " 

"  What  is  the  Christian  name  of  this  young  lady } " 
asked  the  clergyman,  as  she  paused  to  take  breath 
for  what  promised  to  be  a  lengthy  recital. 

"  Derrice ;  I  don't  know  whether  she  has  any 
middle  name  or  not,  but  I  can  easily  find  out.  I 
wish  you  would  take  an  interest  in  her,  for  if  you  do, 
and  just  speak  to  Mrs.  Prymmer  a  few  words  about 
submission  to  the  will  of  Providence,  it  will  comb 
things  out  beautifully.  You  have  a  kind  of  way  with 
women  that  makes  them  mind  what  you  say." 

The  young  clergyman's  face  grew  a  yet  deeper 
colour.     "  What  way  do  you  mean  1 " 

"  A  kind  of  settling  way.  Just  look  at  the  quar- 
rels you've  made  up  in  this  church.  You  see  you 
have  had  experience  in  life.  You  have  been  rich 
and  influential,  and  you  have  travelled  more  than 


60 


DEFICIEIVT  SAINTS. 


\mm 


the  most  of  us.  That  gives  you  weight,"  and  in 
sturdy,  honest  admiration,  her  dun-coloured  eyes 
shone  briskly  at  him  through  her  glasses. 

"I  have  not  had  as  much  experience  as  you 
think,"  he  said,  with  only  a  remnant  of  his  irrita- 
tion. She  had  exorcised  the  demon,  —  she  could 
now  leave  him,  and  a  sudden  cry  hastened  her  tar- 
rying feet.  "Goodness,  there  is  that  baby  again. 
If  he  has  croup  I'll  have  to  send  out  and  borrow 
alum.     I  haven't  a  bit  in  the  house." 

Her  thoughts,  however,  were  not  altogether  on 
the  baby,  as  her  little  feet  pattered  over  the  painted 
wooden  floor  of  the  hall.  "  Thank  God,  that  fit  came 
on  him  when  he  was  alone.  It  is  strange  that  he 
gets  so  dissatisfied.  I  wish  I  could  always  be  with 
him,  but  that's  impossible  —  Now,  baby,  what's  the 
mattei-  with  you  ? "  and  she  bent  over  a  red-faced 
child  sitting  up  and  coughing  in  a  crib. 

Mr.  Huntington  closed  and  locked  the  door  after 
she  left  the  room.  His  next  proceeding  was  to  dig 
a  hole  in  a  flower-pot  on  the  window  and  empty  the 
rest  of  the  gruel  in  it.  Then  he  took  from  a  shelf  a 
small  box  and,  drawing  a  key  from  his  pocket,  threw 
back  the  lid.  Inside  were  several  photographs,  all 
of  women.  He  turned  them  out  to  find  a  pencil 
sketch  at  the  bottom.  A  young  girl  sat  in  the 
centre  of  a  clearing  among  prairie  grass,  her  hands 
crossed,  her  face  turned  up  to  the  sky.     At  a  little 


A   FAVOUR  SOLICITED. 


6l 


distance  stood  a  man  watching  her.  The  girl  was 
the  young  wife  next  door,  the  man  was  himself, — 
Bernal  Huntington,  former  worldling,  now  a  humble 
minister  of  the  gospel. 

"Little  Derrice,"  he  murmured,  and  he  put  the 
sketch  back  in  the  box  and  replaced  it  on  the  shelf. 
As  he  did  so,  his  eyes  fell  on  a  framed  crucifixion  on 
the  wall.  His  expression  altered  again,  and  ejaculat- 
ing, *'  God  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner ! "  he  fell  on 
his  knees  and  sank  into  a  paroxysm  of  prayer. 


!       Ill 


i 


CHAPTER  V. 


A   PASTORAL   VISIT. 


Justin  Mercer's  former  monotonous  life  was  at 
an  end.  With  a  faint  red  spot  on  either  cheek,  and 
with  much  internal  diversion,  he  sat  at  the  breakfast- 
table  the  next  morning  watching  his  wife. 

At  first  she  would  eat  nothing.  Her  disdainful 
glance  played  over  the  porridge  dish,  the  slices  of 
cold  meat,  and  the  cold  bread  and  cheese  that  were 
all  the  table  contained,  and  she  successively  refused 
every  one  of  them.  Then,  just  as  he  was  deliberat- 
ing what  to  do,  Captain  White  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  I'll  toast  you  a  slice  of  bread,  miss,"  and,  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  he  sprang  at  the  loaf  like  a 
benevolent  tiger,  and  hastily  cutting  a  slice  rushed 
to  the  fire  with  it,  suspended  on  one  of  Mrs.  Prym- 
mer's  best  silver  forks. 

That  lady  surveyed  him  in  speechless  indignation 
while  he  nicely  browned  the  bread,  buttered  it,  and 
handed  it  to  the  girl  who,  thanking  him  by  a  smile, 
sat  eating  it  with  her  gaze  riveted  on  him.  He,  with 
eyes  twinkling  phosphorescently,  demurely  finished 


A   PASTORAL    VISIT. 


63 


his  porridge,  and  held  out  his  saucer  for  more,  that 
was  reprovingly  bestowed  on  him  by  Mrs.  Prymmer. 

Justin  saw  that  Derrice  was  completely  fascinated 
by  his  cousin,  on  account  of  his  resemblance  to  her 
father,  and  also  because  of  his  kindness  of  heart  that 
with  feminine  insight  she  readily  divined  under  his 
odd  manners. 

His  mother  repelled  her,  though  at  the  same  time 
the  exaggeration  of  the  mother-in-law  attitude  seemed 
to  afford  secret  and  irrepressible  amusement  to  the 
young  girl.  Mrs.  Prymmer's  repugnance  was  too 
overwrought  to  be  genuine,  too  ridiculous  to  be 
taken  seriously.  There  were  stormy  times  ahead  for 
him  with  these  two  women.  The  daughter-in-law 
would  ridicule  the  mother-in-law ;  the  mother-in- 
law  would,  probably,  fall  into  a  rage  with  the 
daughter-in-law,  and,  perhaps,  drive  her  from  the 
house.  He  would  have  to  take  sides ;  but  there 
was  no  use  in  anticipating  the  storms,  and  with  calm 
but  surreptitious  intt  est  he  watched  Derrice  as  she 
scrutinisetl  the  room. 

The  fami.  had  once  been  rich,  or  at  least  well-to-do, 
the  girl  deciu  1.  The  house  was  large  and  imposing, 
the  rooms  had  been  well  furnished,  but  room  furniture 
and  table  furniture  had  sadly  deteriorated.  The  silk 
coverings  of  the  chairs  were  worn,  the  expensive 
china  was  chipped  and  in  odd  pieces.  Either  short- 
ness of  means  or  a  slight  parsimony  had  attacked 


64 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


the  household  presided  over  by  the  stony  dame 
at  the  head  of  the  table. 

Presently  Justin  saw  his  wife's  gaze  settle  on  the 
doorway,  and,  just  as  he  turned  to  find  out  what  new 
object  had  engaged  her  attention,  a  meek  voice  mur- 
mured, "The  minister  is  in  the  parlour." 

The  rigid  outline  of  Mrs.  Prymmer's  figure  imme- 
diately softened  into  a  gracious  one.  "Bring  him 
in,"  she  said,  hospitably. 

Mr.  Huntington's  stalwart  form  soon  took  the 
place  vacated  by  Mary,  and  Mrs.  Prymmer,  bustling 
forward,  with  her  plump  palm  outstretched,  exclaimed 
in  deep  gratification,  "  This  is  a  great  honour,  brother 
pastor.     Sit  down  and  have  some  breakfast." 

"I  have  had  my  breakfast,  thank  you,"  and  he 
glanced  expectantly  but  without  the  slightest  recog- 
nition at  Derrice,  who  stared  at  him  first  in  blank 
amazement,  and  then,  springing  to  her  feet  with  head 
thrown  back,  speechlessly  extended  both  hands  to 
him. 

Mrs.  Prymmer  did  not  see  the  girl's  pretty  atti- 
tude. She  had  opened  her  mouth  to  make  the 
necessary  introduction,  and  was  trying  to  disengage 
from  the  roof  of  it  the  tongue  that  so  much  hated 
the  task  set  before  it.  However,  there  was  no  need 
for  an  introduction.  Mr.  Huntington,  with  more 
warmth  than  she  had  ever  seen  him  bestow  on  any 
member  of  his  fiock,  was  shaking  hands  with  her 


4" 


-2  .  -tM 


A  PASTORAL    VISIT. 


65 


daughter-in-law,  who  plaintively  murmured,  "  How 
delightful  to  see  you !  Why  did  not  some  one  tell 
me  you  were  here  ?  " 

Mrs.  Prymmer  was  exceedingly  disturbed.  The 
young  wife  was  an  acquaintance  of  the  minister's 
former  worldly  days,  —  days  that  it  was  not  wise 
to  remember.  Or  was  he  more  than  an  acquaintance, 
a  dear  friend  perhaps,  for  he  certainly,  with  great 
kindness  and  almost  with  authority,  was  begging  her 
to  continue  her  breakfast,  —  which  she  did,  only  occa- 
sionally glancing  at  him  over  her  shoulder,  with 
faintly  pink  cheeks. 

Mrs.  Prymmer,  emerging  from  her  temporary 
eclipse,  began  a  conversation  with  him,  largely  of 
an  interrogatory  character. 

"  You  don't  look  well,"  she  said,  at  last.  "  I  guess 
you  tired  yourself  out  yesterday." 

"  H'm,  yes,  a  clerical  blue  Monday,"  he  said,  giv- 
ing her  his  words  but  fixing  his  attention  on  Derrice. 

At  his  remark,  she  turned  and  flashed  him  an 
amused,  puzzled  glance  that  took  in  his  tall  figure, 
his  handsome  head,  his  rather  shabby  black  coat,  and 
his  man-of-the-world  ease  of  position  and  manner,  so 
much  at  variance  with  the  awkward  angularity  of 
Captain  White's  attitude,  and  the  composed  rigidity 
of  her  husband's. 

By  and  by  Captain  White  jerked  himself  from  the 
room,  and  soon  after,  Justin,  with  a  reserved  nod  to 


i  I 


66 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


\         'i, 


the  clergyman,  followed  him.  Mrs.  Prymmer  assisted 
the  maid  in  clearing  the  dishes  from  the  table,  while 
Derrice  sat  down  by  the  fire  opposite  the  caller, 
and  carried  on  with  him  a  conversation  so  full  of 
references  to  former  days  that  it  was  quite  unin- 
telligible to  Mrs.  Prymmer. 

However,  she  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of 
leaving  her  daughter-in-law  alone  with  the  clergyman, 
and,  seating  herself  between  them  after  the  servant 
had  disappeared,  she  broke  in  upon  a  remark  of 
Derrice's,  with  a  suave  inquiry  as  to  how  many 
people  had  stood  up  for  prayer  at  the  close  of  the 
service  the  evening  before. 

"  Two,"  he  replied,  with  a  stare  which  caused  Mrs. 
Prymmer  to  unfold  her  fat  hands  from  over  the  long 
white  apron  she  always  wore,  and  to  rise  in  some 
confusion  to  her  feet.  She  was  not  wanted,  she  had 
better  leave  the  room.  She  would  not,  however,  be 
cheated  out  of  all  her  rights,  and  in  a  choking  voice 
she  said,  "I  have  some  things  to  see  to  in  the 
kitchen ;  can't  we  have  a  word  of  prayer  before 
I  go?" 

"  Did  you  have  prayers  this  morning  ?  "  inquired 
her  spiritual  adviser,  coldly. 

«  Yes,"  she  faltered. 

He  said  nothing  more,  and  with  lingering  steps 
and  a  furious  glance  at  Derrice  she  went  reluctantly 
from  the  room. 


A  PASTORAL   VISIT. 


«y 


Derrice  was  convulsed  with  laughter,  some  of 
which  escaped  into  outward  expression. 

"You  think  I  am  acting  a  part,"  said  Mr.  Hunt- 
ington, dryly. 

"  Not  acting  —  you  are  the  part  —  it  is  superb. 
But  then,  you  were  always  good  at  amateur 
theatricals.  What  have  you  turned  clergyman 
for  ? " 

"  I  had  to  do  so." 

"  The  coat  is  delicious,"  she  said,  peeping  around 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  long  black  tails.  "Thank 
Heaven  for  this  bit  of  comedy  in  the  heavy  tragedy 
of  my  life  during  the  last  few  weeks." 

"  This  also  is  tragedy,"  he  said,  seriously. 

"  But  why  have  I  not  known  you  were  here } " 

"  No  one  knew  that  I  had  ever  met  you,  and 
how  was  I  to  know  that  Mrs.  Justin  Mercer  was  Miss 
Derrice  Lancaster } " 

"  And  you  live  here }  " 

"Yes,  next  door.  These  people  here  are  some 
of  my  parishioners." 

"  And  do  you  —  what  \z  it  you  call  it  —  preach 
in  that  coat  ? " 

"  No,  I  preach  in  my  shirt-sleeves,"  he  said, 
irritably. 

Derrice  wrinkled  her  forehead.  Now  that  the  first 
blush  of  greeting  was  over  she  had  leisure  to  scruti- 
nise him.     Where  was  the  gay  carelessness,  almost 


6s 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


iCl 


recklessness,  of  demeanour  that  had  characterised 
her  friend  in  former  days  ?  Gone  like  a  dream  of 
youth,  —  this  moody,  reserved  man  with  the  flushed 
face  had  slipped  in  among  the  ranks  of  the  middle- 
aged. 

"  What  has  brought  on  this  metamorphosis  ? "  she 
asked,  dubiously. 

"  Don't  talk  about  me,"  he  said,  wearily,  "  you  will 
hear  gossip  ad  nauseam.  Tell  me  what  you  have 
been  doing  since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
you .? " 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  mournfully,  "  how  far  off  it  seems. 
I  was  revelling  in  my  release  from  a  brief  term  of 
school  life,  and  the  freedom  of  renewed  travel  with 
my  father.  We  went  to  Europe,  then  we  came  to 
New  York,  and  after  that  went  to  South  America 
and  California.  Then  my  father  wanted  me  to 
marry  —  " 

Mr.  Huntington  surveyed  her  keenly.  Her  face 
was  distressed,  her  lips  trembling,  and  she  looked  as 
if  she  were  about  to  cry,  yet  she  controlled  herself, 
and  went  on  in  a  light  tone,  "  Isn't  his  mother  queer, 
—  she  simply  detests  me.  I  never  had  any  one  do 
that  before." 

Mr.  Huntington  strode  to  the  door,  and,  finding  it 
ajar,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  fastened  it,  and  returned 
to  his  seat.  "  She  is  a  trying  woman.  If  you  are 
as  mischievous  as  in  former  days,  Derrice,  I  would 


A  PASTORAL    VISIT. 


69 


give  a  year's  salary  to  have  you  stay  here  and  help 
me  discipline  her." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  stay  here,"  she  said,  pitifully. 
"  I  want  my  husband  to  go  away  and  travel  with  me 
and  my  father." 

"  Can  he  do  that  ? " 

"  He  does  not  say.  Just  now  he  cannot  leave  the 
bank.     Perhaps  later  on  I  can  get  him  to  do  it." 

"  And  you  would  not  go  without  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,"  she  replied,  "  he  is  rather  fond  of 
me,  and  if  I  leave  him  he  says  —  Well,  I  fancy  he 
would  be  lonely." 

"  I  suppose  he  says  his  heart  would  break." 

Derrice  laughed  nervously,  and  he  went  on.  "  Let 
it  break.  Other  hearts  have  broken.  It  is  a  shame 
to  keep  you  here.  You  were  not  born  for  the  arid 
atmosphere  of  a  New  England  town." 

Derrice  stopped  laughing,  and  surveyed  the 
friendly,  handsome  face  beyond  her.  "Have  you 
married  ? " 

"  No." 

"  Why  did  you  not  ask  me  ? "  she  said,  mischie- 
vously. 

"  I  knew  better,  and  you  were  too  young.  I  think 
your  father  took  you  to  Europe  to  get  rid  of  me, 
though  he  probably  did  not  tell  you  so." 

Her  face  clouded.  "  My  dear  father  —  I  think  of 
him  all  the  time.    I  wish  to  please  him.    I  know  -^ 


1   ■' 


ip 


I  ii 


Hi' 


70 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


oh,  I  know,  Mr.  Huntington,  that  he  would  like  me  to 
stay  here,  but  I  do  not  wish  to  do  so.  It  is  such  a 
conflict.  If  he  only  knew  how  I  miss  him,  —  how  I 
hate  to  be  away  from  him.  He  never  used  to  have 
me  do  anything  I  disliked,"  and  she  tried  to  cover 
with  her  hands  the  sudden  tears. 

"  Poor  child ! "  said  the  clergyman ;  then  he  rose 
and  stood  over  her.  "  Can  you  not  think  of  some 
worse  trouble  that  might  have  befallen  you  "i " 

"  No,  no,  no,  —  I  worship  my  father,  —  he  was 
so  strange,  —  I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  never  live  with 
him  again.  I  think  he  wanted  to  get  rid  of  me. 
Perhaps  he  is  going  to  r     • —  marry  himself." 

"You  are  about  eighteen  now,  Derrice,  are  you 
not  ? "  asked  Mr.  Huntington,  gently. 

"  Yes,  on  my  last  birthday." 

"  Little  Derrice,  you  are  too  young  yet  to  know 
the  priceless  blessing  of  an  unselfish  love.  You  have 
married  an  honest  man,  and  one  devoted  to  you.  Do 
not  despise  his  affection.  I  have  lived  longer  than 
you,  and  let  me  tell  you  that  love  is  seldom  found  in 
its  purity,  —  is  seldom  bestowed  on  a  worthy  object. 
You  do  well  to  stay  here,  to  wait  and  be  patient." 

Derrice,  in  suppressed  surprise,  wiped  away  her 
tears.  The  clergyman  had  suddenly  lost  his  irritable 
and  disturbed  manner.  He  was  earnest,  impressive, 
even  ardent. 

Thank  you,"  she  said,  gravely.     *'  I  will  think  of 


u 


i:  -i 


^   PASTORAL    VISIT. 


71 


:e  me  to 
>  such  a 
-how  I 
to  have 
0  cover 

le  rose 
f  some 

le  was 
/e  with 
of  me. 

re  you 


what  you  say.  It  is  a  consolation  to  find  you  here 
for  you  recall  happier  days,  -  days  spent  with  my 
dear  father." 

She  was  going  to  cry  again, —what  a  child  she 
was!— and  warmly  clasping  her  hand,  th2  young 
clergyman  hurried  from  the  room. 


know 
u  have 
u.  Do 
r  than 
und  in 
object. 
It." 

ly  her 
ritable 
jssive, 


ink  of 


CHAPTER  VI. 


STERN    HER    FACE    AND    MASCULINE    HER   STRIDE. 


Mr.  Huntington,  after  leaving  the  Mercer  man- 
sion, stood  for  a  minute  on  the  sidewalk,  in  deepest 
thought.  He  turned  his  face  toward  his  own  house, 
then,  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  up-ri^'er  suburbs 
of  the  town,  he  turned  his  head  back  again,  like  one 
drawn  two  ways,  and,  finally  coming  to  a  decision, 
hailed  a  passing  car,  and  was  whirled  rapidly  in  the 
direction  his  thoughts  had  taken. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  had  reached  the  terminus 
of  the  car  line,  and  was  picking  a  somewhat  muddy 
way  toward  a  long,  high-shouldered  house  of  foreign 
aspect,  situated  on  the  river  bank,  and  showing  him 
a  broad,  friendly  face  at  the  end  of  an  avenue  of 
poplars. 

"  Is  Miss  Gastonguay  at  home } "  he  asked  of  an 
old  man  servant,  who  opened  the  door  to  him. 

"  Yes,  sir,  —  she's  just  a-scolding  of  old  Tribula- 
tion," said  the  demure  old  man,  with  ill-concealed 
satisfaction.  '*  Look  at  him  —  "  and  he  threw  open 
the  door  of  a  near  parlour. 

7« 


STERN  HER  FACE. 


73 


The  handsome  furniture  of  the  room  was  pushed 
on  one  side,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  polished  floor 
stood  a  second  old  man,  his  gray  head  bent  over  the 
handle  of  a  broom,  tears  raining  from  his  eyes  to  the 
floor. 

"  You  sha'n't  have  one  morsel  of  food  to-day,  if  you 
don't  do  this  room  better,"  a  decided  feminine  voice 
was  saying.     "  Now  go  right  over  it  again." 

The  clergyman  stood  silently  gazing  at  the  straight 
back  of  his  hostess.  She  was  dressed  in  a  scant 
blue  serge  skirt,  a  man's  coat,  a  man's  hat,  thick 
boots  were  on  her  feet,  and  she  carried  a  riding-whip 
in  her  hand.  Her  hair  was  cut  short,  her  sex  would 
have  been  indeterminate  to  a  stranger,  but  the  clergy- 
man knew  her  well  as  Miss  Jane  Gastonguay,  —  an 
eccentric,  kind-hearted  old  maid,  who  loved  to  mas- 
querade in  semi-masculine  garments. 

Presently  the  ceasing  of  the  old  man's  flow  of  croco- 
dile tears  caused  her  to  turn  around.  "  Oh,  you  are 
here,"  she  said,  coolly,  to  the  clergyman,  "  I  just  want 
some  one  in  your  profession  to  hear  me  register  a 
vow  to  send  this  old  fool  back  to  the  poorhouse,  if  he 
does  not  mend  his  ways.  This  room  was  to  have 
been  done  by  eight  o'clock,  and  my  fine  gentleman 
here  lies  in  bed  and  smokes  instead  of  sweeping  it,  — 
some  day  he  will  burn  us  all  up.  You  would  think 
he  was  the  millionaire  and  \  the  pauper,  How  old 
are  you,  idiot  ? " 


■a 


I 


74 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


ti 


\\ 


iiiiiS 


Six  —  sixty,"  sobbed  the  old  man. 

"That's  a  falsehood.  Tell  me  the  truth,  quick 
now,  or  you  will  go  right  out  of  this  house." 

"  Six  —  six  — ty  —  five,  ma'am." 

"  A  mere  boy,  —  only  one  year  older  than  I  am. 
I  know  an  old  man  of  eighty  who  would  be  glad  to 
take  your  place.  Haven't  I  fed  and  clothed  you  for 
years  > " 

"  Ye  —  jres,  ma'am,"  he  stammered. 

"  And  this  is  the  way  you  serve  me.  Well,  as  I 
said  before,  if  I  have  any  more  trouble  with  you,  back 
you  go  to  the  poorhouse,"  and,  loftily  holding  up  her 
head,  she  swaggered  from  the  room. 

"  And  you,  too,  Prosperity,"  she  exclaimed,  paus- 
ing in  the  hall  to  reprove  the  second  grayhead,  who 
was  openly  chuckling  over  his  companion's  discom- 
fiture. "  Your  dusting  lately  is  shameful ;  just  look 
at  this  chair,"  and  she  ran  her  forefinger  over 
the  back  of  one  standing  near  her.  "Go  get  a 
cloth." 

The  old  man,  with  a  ludicrous  descent  from  gratifi- 
cation to  mortification,  fairly  ran  down  the  hall,  while 
Miss  Gastonguay  preceded  the  clergyman  into  a 
music-room,  where  she  seated  herself  on  a  piano 
stool  and  motioned  him  to  a  monk's  bench. 

"I  shall  not  detain  you,"  he  said,  "I  see  you  are 
going  out." 

No  hurry,"  she  replied,  airily.     "  I  am  just  going 


« 


4  m' 


STERN  HER  FACjZ. 


7S 


to  try  a  new  colt  in  the  field  yDnder, — you  want 
money,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  this  time,"  he  replied,  in  his  smooth,  pol- 
ished tones.  "  I  want  to  ask  a  favour  of  another 
order." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  said,  abruptly. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  Justin  Mercer's  marriage  .^" 

"  Good  gracious,  yes,  —  .s  this  place  so  large  that 
we  should  miss  an  important  piece  of  gossip  like  that  ? 
The  whole  town  is  ringing  with  it." 

"  Have  you  thought  of  calling  on  his  wife  } " 

"I  —  Wherefore  should  I  enter  the  doors  of  those 
sour-faced  Puritans .?  " 

"  The  daughter-in  law  is  different." 

"  Is  she  }     I  am  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  I  used  to  know  her  two  years  ago  She  was  a 
charming  young  girl.  I  think  possi'uly  you  and  Miss 
Chelda  would  enjoy  her  acquaintance." 

"Chelda  may,  I  assure  you  I  shall  not  trouble 
myself  about  her.  Here,  Chelda  —  Chelda  —  come 
speak  to  Mr.  Huntington.  You're  somewhere  near, 
you  young  sly-boots,  for  I  hear  you." 

A  tall,  dark  girl,  with  a  graceful  figure  and  an 
attractive  if  enigmatic  face,  came  from  the  hall,  and 
exchanged  a  calm  "  Good  morning  "  with  the  clergy- 
man. 

"Chelda,  will  you  go  call  on  the  new  Mrs.  Mer- 
cer?"   said  Miss  Gastonguay,  abruptly.     *'I  don't 


I  1   Tfi'sis: 


76 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Ill 


l! 


want  to  be  bothered  with  her.    I  know  too  many 
girls  now." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  go  } "  asked  the  young  lady, 
addressing  their  caller,  and  narrowing  her  long  liquid 
eyes  as  she  spoke. 

"  Of  course  he  does,'"  said  Miss  Gastonguay 
"That  is  what  he's  here  for.  You  only  want  to 
gain  time  to  make  up  your  mind.     Will  you  go  } " 

"Yes,  I  will,  aunt." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Huntington,  rising.  "I 
do  not  think  you  will  regret  it." 

"I  think  we  should  be  grateful  to  you,"  said  the 
young  lady.  "There  are  few  desirable  people  In 
Rossignol,  and  you  would  not  call  our  attention  to 
any  one  who  would  be  undesirable." 

She  spoke  sweetly  and  smoothly,  yet  her  tones 
flowed  into  ber  relative's  ear  with  a  hidden  meaning. 
"Now  what  do  you  mean  by  that,  Chelda?"  she 
asked. 

Chelda  glinced  at  their  caller.  He  understood 
her,  and  he  at  once  lost  the  contented,  alnost  exalted 
expression  that  he  had  brought  away  from  the  Mer- 
cer mansion,  and  took  on  instead  his  usual  one  of 
slight  moodiness. 

"  She  means,"  he  said,  hastily,  "  that  my  duties 
call  me  among  a  cl«ss  of  people  with  whom  it  would 
not  be  your  good  pleasure  to  associate." 

♦•And  I  am   called  the  most   radical  woman  in 


STERI^  I/lSR  fACJ^. 


77 


Rossignol !  "  said  Miss  Gastonguay.     "Thank  you, 
young  ecclesiastic." 

"  I  referred  to  your  niece,  rather  than  to  you,"  he 
said,  with  a  bow. 

"  Oh,  Chelda,  —  yes,  she  is  an  aristocrat,'  said  Miss 
Gastonguay."  It  i^  born  in  her,  she  can't  help  it. 
You  ought  to  understand  her,  in  view  of  your  former 
life.  Come,  now,  do  you  love  all  those  dirty  mill 
hands  and  slovenly  women  you  work  among .? " 

"  I  do  not  think  we  need  discuss  that  point.  There 
is  duty  to  be  considered  as  well  as  pleasure." 

"But  if  one  can  combine  both,"  said  Chelda;  "it 
is  possible." 

"The  question  is  to  know  your  duty,"  he  replied. 

"  It  is  our  duty  to  be  happy,"  said  the  young  lady, 
blandly,  yet  with  a  certain  boldness. 

The  clergyman  looked  straight  into  her  eyes.  They 
were  wide  open.  Their  usual  filmy  appearaiijc 
was  gone.  What  he  saw  seemed  to  fascinate  and 
yet  repel  him,  for  with  his  hands  he  made  a  ges- 
ture as  if  he  would  be  gone,  yet  his  feet  still 
lingered. 

Miss  Gastonguay's  abrupt  voice  disenchanted 
him.  "  Come  back  to  lunch,  Mr.  Huntington.  I 
daresay  you  are  taking  your  Monday  walk  in  this 
direction." 

He  started  slightly.  "  I  am,  yet  I  thought  of 
returning  to  my  study." 


I 


1  ili'*^ 


7* 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


He  had  retreated  toward  the  door,  but  the  young 
lady  moved  a  step  toward  him.  "  How  devoted  you 
are  to  that  desk  of  yours.  How  you  must  miss  your 
former  life  of  freedom." 

The  cloud  on  his  brow  grew  more  heavy,  and 
seeing  it,  Miss  Gastonguay  exclaimed,  hospitably, 
"  Let  the  musty  old  Negus  books  alone,  and  go  take 
your  constitutional  on  the  river  road.  Then  after 
lunch  Chelda  will  drive  you  in  town  and  make  her 
call  on  your  friend,  the  bride.  You  will,  won't  you, 
Chelda.?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  young  lady,  sweetly,  but 
without  eagerness. 

The  clergyman  flashed  one  rapid  glance  about  the 
quiet  elegance  of  the  roon-,  and  another  at  his  ec- 
centric and  unconventional  hostess  and  her  graceful 
niece. 

These  surroundings  were  more  congenial  to  him 
in  his  present  state  of  mind  than  the  dingy  parson- 
age. ••  I  will  come  back,  thank  you,"  he  said,  and, 
hurrying  from  the  house,  he  went  down  the  road  at 
a  swinging  gait. 

Miss  Gastonguay,  with  her  little  manly  swagger, 
followed  him  to  the  big  hall  door.  "  Chelda,  that 
man  does  not  seem  happy  lately." 

"Perhaps  he  is  working  too  bard." 

"  Ke  '3n't  in  love  wirt;  you,  is  he  ? "  asked  Miss 
Gastonguiiy,  sliarply. 


^L  ■ 


STERN  HER  FACE. 


79 


Chelda  discreetly  lowered  her  eyes.  "I  don't 
know." 

"  You  wouldn't  marry  him  if  he  were.  You  are 
too  fond  of  your  own  comfort  to  tie  yourself  to 
a  poor  clergympn." 

"You  are  right,  aunt,  I  shall  never  marry  a 
clergyman." 

"I  believe,"  continued  Miss  Gastonguay,  in  a 
puzzled  voice,  "  that  he  likes  to  come  to  this  house. 
He  once  told  me  that  it  reminded  him  of  his  father's 
house  on  the  Hudson.  Have  they  ever  forgiven  him 
for  turning  parson,  do  you  know }  " 

"  No ;  his  father  has  cut  him  out  of  his  will,  and 
has  requested  him  not  to  go  home." 

"A  cold-hearted  money-bags,  nourished  on  the 
milk  of  Wall  Street.  Chelda,  do  you  believe  that 
among  foreign  aristocracy  there  is  half  the  scorn  for 
the  lowly  born,  the  toiling  poor,  that  there  is  among 
our  so-called  American  aristocrats  }  " 

*'I  do  not  know,  aunt,  n^"  acquaintance  with  the 
foreign  nobility  being  limited.  ' 

"You  have  met  them  travelling,  —  those  counts 
and  countesses,  dukes  and  duchesses,  —  you  have 
seen  that  they  have  some  bowels  of  compassion  ;  but 
our  rich  people  here,  —  they  are  grossly  material.  It 
is  money,  money,  how  much  have  you  ?  What  is  the 
biggest  piece  of  foolery  you  can  perpetrate  with  it  ? 
Some  day  we  shall  have  a  labour  war ;  the  poor  will 


H 


,<^ 


WW 


So 


DEFICIENT  SAlNfS. 


f 


rise  up  against  them,"  and  shaking  her  head  and 
scolding  to  herself  she  started  in  the  direction  of 
her  stables. 

Chelda,  with  the  train  of  her  Parisian  gown  rustling 
daintily  over  the  bare  and  polished  steps  of  the 
staircase,  went  up  to  the  top  of  the  house,  where  she 
sat  sunning  her  sleek,  beautiful  self  and  observing 
the  country  for  miles  around.  Sometimes  she  picked 
up  a  field-glass  beside  her  to  better  watch  the  move- 
ments of  a  stalwart  pedestrian  on  the  high-road. 

"  He  has  one  devil  nov  ;  Heaven  grant  that  he 
may  return  with  seven  more,''  she  murmured,  joyfully. 


w 


i 

ii.'i 


CHAPTER  VII. 


A    DRIVE   WITH   A    STRANGE    GUIDE. 


Two  women  —  two  of  Mrs.  Prymmer's  chosen 
friends  and  satellites  —  were  calling  on  Derrice. 
Mrs.  Prymmer  had  sent  a  message  to  her  room,  and 
now  sat  smoothing  her  white  apron,  enjoyably  antici- 
pating the  effect  that  Derrice's  red  silk  and  cash- 
mere gown  would  produce  on  her  callers,  yet  at  the 
same  time  a  prey  to  secret  annoyance  to  think  that 
she  herself  was  only  of  secondary  importance. 

To  her  chagrin,  the  girl  sauntered  into  the  room 
in  a  dull  brown  walking  suit,  and  with  a  single  eye- 
glass mischievously  fixed  under  one  light  eyebrow. 

Mrs.  Prymmer  was  speechless.  Such  a  thing  had 
never  before  been  heard  of  in  the  length  and  breadth 
of  Rossignol,  —  that  one  human  being  should,  through 
a  solitary  piece  of  glass,  dare  to  stare  at,  examine, 
and  confuse  another  human  being  not  blessed  with 
a  single  piece  of  glass.  "The  girl  was  as  full  of 
tricks  as  a  monkey,"  she  indignantly  reflected. 

'■*  Did  you  want  me .? "  asked  Derrice. 

**Yes,"  stammered  her  mother-in-law,  recovering 

Si 


Iff 


32 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


her  breaith,  and  she  waved  her  hand  toward  the  little 
dowdy  v/idow  in  the  black  bonnet  and  bead  cape, 
and  the  young  woman  in  the  painful  green  dress,  who 
was  her  daughter,  and  the  bride  of  a  carpenter  who 
lived  around  the  corner. 

"You  have  come  to  see  me,  —  how  kind  in  you," 
said  Derrice,  in  her  infantine  manner,  and  with  so 
much  sweetness  that  the  two  visitors,  who  were  not 
of  her  world  and  never  would  be,  immediately  fell 
into  a  profound  conviction  that  they  were  her  friends 
for  life. 

The  little  widow,  who  was  a  kind-hearted  person, 
but  of  limited  ideas  and  education,  felt  a  strange 
flutter  of  interest  as  she  regarded  the  beautiful, 
gracious  girl,  and,  losing  her  first  fear  of  the  eye- 
glass, immediately  expressed  a  hope  that  Derrice  felt 
pretty  smart  after  her  journey. 

"Oh,  yes,  thank  you,  I  am  used  to  travelling." 

The  carpenter's  wife,  who  had,  until  Derrice's 
entrance  into  the  room,  been  troubled  with  a  nervous 
choking  in  her  throat,  now  lost  all  embarrassment, 
and  interrupted  a  remark  of  her  mother  by  an  eager 
inquiry  as  to  whether  Derrice  would  "appear  out" 
next  Sunday. 

Derrice  hesitated,  and  looked  at  her  mother-in-law. 

"  She  means,"  said  Mrs.  Prymmer,  solemnly,  "  will 
you  attend  divine  service  ?  It  is  the  custom  for 
brides." 


A   DRIVE    WITH  A   STRANGE   GUIDE. 


83 


"Yes,"  chimed  in  the  widow,  "then  they  stay 
home  for  three  days  and  receive  visits.  Will  you  do 
so,  dear  ? " 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  laughed  Derrice.  "Have 
you  any  saints'  bones  or  other  curiosities  in  your 
church  ? " 

"  No,  dear,  no  dead  saints.  We've  got  plenty  of 
live  ones." 

"  I  like  them  better  dead.  I  haven't  gone  into  a 
church  for  years  except  for  sight-seeing." 

"  Why,  ain't  you  a  professor  } "  asked  the  carpen- 
ter's bride,  and  in  her  dismay  she  leaned  forward 
and  laid  a  cotton-gloved  hand  on  Derrice' s  knee. 

"  No,  I  never  taught  anything.  I  suppose  teachers 
do  have  to  go  to  church.     Mine  always  did." 

"  She  means  a  professor  of  religion,"  interposed 
Mrs.  PryrAimer. 

"Oh,  like  )^ou,"  said  Derrice,  innocently.  "No,  I 
have  not  that  honour." 

"  I  wish  you'd  join  our  church,"  said  the  widow 
and  her  daughter  in  a  breath. 

"  Perhaps  I  will  some  day,  if  I  stay  here  long 
enough,"  said  Derrice,  amiably. 

"We've  got  such  a  good  preacher,"  said  the 
younger  woman,  enthusiastically. 

'*Is  it  Mr.  Huntington  }  "  asked  Derrice. 

"  Yes ;  did  any  one  tell  you  about  his  conver- 
sion ? " 


V  :<; 


I' 


.iM 


'  s 


i!    A 


84 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  No,  not  yet." 

"  I  wonder  that  you  haven't,  sister,"  said  the  widow, 
turning  to  Mrs.  Prymmer,  "  but  I  suppose  you  haven't 
had  time  to  tell  everything  yet.  Oh,  it  was  such  a 
remarkable  thing.  He  was  a  wild  young  fellow. 
He  had  a  friend  called  Denham  —  " 

"Yes,  Mr.  John  Denham,  I  have  met  him,"  said 
Derrice. 

The  little  widow's  eyes  flashed  curiously,  but  she 
would  not  stop  to  ask  questions  now.  She  would  tell 
her  story  first.  *♦  This  Mr.  Denham  was  always  with 
him.  They  were  two  reckless,  careless,  godless, 
swearing,  drinking  young  men  —  " 

"  Oh,  not  as  bad  as  that,"  said  Derrice,  mildly. 

"  My  dear,  people  has  told  us  —  Well,  they  was 
going  on  their  ways  of  sin  when  one  day  there  come 
a  change.  They  was  in  a  railroad  accidei.t,  and  poor 
Mr.  Denham  he  was  torn  almost  to  pieces.  He  lived 
only  a  little  while,  but  his  mother  come  to  him,  and 
before  he  died  he  repented  of  his  wild  ways,  he  gave 
his  heart  to  his  Maker,  and  he  begged  Mr.  Hunt- 
ington to  do  the  same.  He  was  shocked  most  to 
death.  After  he  buried  his  friend,  he  did  change. 
He  went  to  a  theological  seminary  and  studied  for  a 
while ;  then  Mr.  Negus  died,  and  he  was  supplying 
for  this  church  and  we  called  him.  Such  sermons 
as  he  used  to  preach, — the  church  would  be  crowded 
twice  a  day  and  wagons  standing  all  the  way  down  to 


A  DRIVE    WITH  A   STRANGE   GUIDE. 


85 


the  stables.  Now  the  excitement's  wearing  away, 
because  he's  been  with  us  for  some  time,  but  we  had 
a  powerful  revival,  didn't  wc,  sister  ? "  and  she  ap- 
pealed to  Mrs.  Prymmer. 

"  Thank  the  Lord,  yes,  —  ninety-five  baptisms." 

Derrice's  face  had  grown  white.  "  You  say  that 
Mr.  Denham  is  dead }  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  dead  and  buried.  Was  he  a  friend  of 
yours } " 

"  Scarcely  a  friend ;  I  did  not  know  him  as  well 
as  I  knew  Mr.  Huntington.  He  was  rather  an  ac- 
quaintance." 

The  eye-glass  fell  from  under  Derrice's  brow.  She 
seemed  disinclined  to  iialk,  and  her  visitors  rose  to 
take  leave.  "  You'll  come  see  us,  dear  ? "  said  the 
widow. 

"  Certainly ;  where  do  you  live  ? " 

"  Here,  dear,  is  a  card, —  Mrs.  James,  38  Pownall." 

"Pownall;  is  it  street,  avenue,  square  —  f" 

"  Street,  dear,  always  understood.  Good-bye.  I'm 
real  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  and  squeezing 
her  hand  until  the  girl  winced  with  pain,  and  recovered 
only  to  wince  again  under  an  alarming  muscular  pres- 
sure from  the  carpenter's  bride,  the  little  widow 
reluctantly  tore  herself  away. 

Mrs.  Prymmer  let  them  out  at  the  street  door, 
compressed  her  lips  as  the  widow  whispered,  "  Ain't 
she  a  beauty  ?    What  a  pity  slie  don't  go  to  church  I  " 


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DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 

and  then  moved  slowly  back  in  the  direcaon  of  the 
parlour.  She  would  address  a  remonstrance  to  Derrice 
on  the  subject  of  the  eye-glass,  but  on  her  appearance 
the  girl  lost  with  such  rapidity  her  sad,  reflective  atti- 
tude, and  putting  her  glass  in  her  eye  fixed  it  with 
such  a  defiant  expression  on  her  mother-in-law,  that 
that  good  lady  was  surprised  and  confused,  and 
could  only  mutter  a  hasty,  "  Are  you  going  out  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Derrice,  briefly,  and  she  was  just  about 
to  sweep  by  her  when  she  was  checked  by  a  question 
from  the  hall  in  an  animated  voice,  "  Is  Mrs.  Mercer 
at  home }  Mrs.  Mercer,  not  Mrs.  Prymmer,  ~  I  don't 
want  to  see  her." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  heard  the  clearly  spoken  sentence, 
yet  she  rushed  forward  with  outstretched  hand,  "Why, 
Miss  Gastungup.v.  you're  a  sight  for  sore  eyes." 

"Am  \} "  said  the  lady,  coolly,  aiid  overlooking  the 
offered  hand.  "  I  don't  think  your  eyes  have  ever 
beheld  me  with  much  favour  since  I  sat  on  the  bench 
behind  you  and  the  other  small  girls  at  school,  and 
for  the  sake  of  example  exposed  your  cheating  at 
lessons  to  the  master  Do  go  away,  Hippolyta 
Prymmer,  —  you  hat;?  me,  you  know  you  do,  and 
upon  my  word  I've  no  love  for  you.  Wliat  is  the 
use  of  being  sneaky  when  old  age  is  creeping  on  you  ? 
We  kept  it  up  when  we  were  young ;  do  let  us  get 
through  the  death-dance  honestly. " 

Mrs.  Prymmer  with  an  indignant  face  retreated 


A  DRIVE    WITH  A   STRANGE   GUIDE. 

into  the  hall,  and  left  her  daughter-in-law  alone  i^dth 
hsr  caller. 

"That's  the  way  to  manage  her,  my  dear,"  said 
Miss  Gastonguay,  shortly.    "  She  is  a  born  bully ;  if 
you  don't  bully  her,  she  will  bully  you.     She  ought 
to  have  died  in  her  cradle  and  gone  a  happy  infant 
to  paradise.     Will  you  come  and  take  a  drive  with 
me  >     My  niece  was  to  call  this  afternoon  on  you, 
but  she  is  off  somewhere  gallivanting  with  the  cleig>'- 
man,  so  I  thought  I'd  come  myself.     First  I  said  I 
wouldn't,  then  I  repented,  like  the  man  in  the  Bible. 
Come,  put  your  hat  on,  child.     I'm  all  right.     You 
needn't  distrust  me,  I'm  Jane  Gastonguay,  spinster, 
and  owner  of  half  Rossignol.     You  couldn't  sell  this 
house  you  are  standing  in  without  my  permission. 
Mr.  Huntington  sent  me,  so  he  will  vouch  for  me. 
I'll  neither  upset  you  nor  throw  you  in  among  the 
ice-blocks  in  the  river.     Come,  I  can't  wait." 

Derrice  suppressed  the  surprise  with  v/hich  «he 
at  first  surveyed  the  little,  gentlemanly,  shorMegged 
lady  in  the  broadcloth  coat,  and  with  a  murmured, 
"  You  are  very  kind,"  hurried  up-stairs  and  got  a  hat 
and  jacket. 

A  few  minutes  later  they  were  going  side  by  side 
down  the  stone  steps  and  across  the  snow-covered 
patch  of  lawn  to  the  street. 

"Have  you  seen  Rossignol  yet?"  asked  Miss 
Gastonguay. 


SB 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"No,  except  for  one  or  two  short  walks  up  and 
down  this  avenue." 

"We  don't  call  this  an  avenue,  child,  we  call  it 
a  street,  in  spite  of  the  magnificent  elms,"  said  Miss 
Gastonguay,  stepping  to  the  gutter  and  picking  up 
a  fur  lap-robe.  "Now  where  is  that  bi-at  of  a 
pony?"  and  putting  two  fingers  in  her  mouth  she 
whistled  shrilly. 

"Look  at  him  coming  from  the  parsonage,"  she 
went  on,  "his  mouth  full  of  bread  and  sugar  and 
rattling  my  new  cart  over  the  gutters.  I  declare 
there  is  nothing  bigger  than  his  appetite  but  the 
public  debt  of  Maine.  Come  here,  you  villain.  You 
are  worse  than  z.  dog,  creeping  around  to  back  doors 
while  your  mistress  is  calling." 

Derrice  smiled  as  the  fat  white  animal,  with  a 
mischievous  roll  of  his  light  eyes  at  his  mistress, 
hurried  down  the  drive  to  the  street,  and,  with  the 
dexterity  of  a  veteran,  wheeled  the  cart  directly  in 
front  of  her. 

Derrice  got  in,  and  Miss  Gastonguay,  after  a  soft 
slap  on  the  animal's  neck,  followed  her. 

"  It  is  *  joiiy,*  as  English  people  say,  that  you  have 


not  seen  the  town."  said  Miss 


up  the  lines.     "I  love  to  get  hold 


Gastonguay,  picking 
:  new 


peoph 


Don't  you  know  a  thing  about  it?      Hasn't  your 
husband  told  you?" 
"Well,  really,  I  have  slept  the  most  of  (he  time 


A  DRIVE    WITH  A   STRANGE   GUIDE. 


89 


since  arriving.  I  was  tired  from  my  journey,  and 
I  have  asked  few  questions." 

"  You  don't  want  to  be  too  communicative,"  said 
Miss  Gastonguay,  turning  her  sharp  black  eyes  on 
her.  « You  are  quite  a  woman  of  the  world,  baby 
though  you  seem.  Well,  I'll  not  bother  you  till 
after  you  have  had  a  chance  to  ask  some  one  if 
I  am  quite  respectable  and  one  to  be  encouraged, 
though  it  will  be  hard  work  for  me  to  restrain 
myself,  as  I  am  little  better  than  an  interrogation 
point.     You  don't  belong  to  New  England?" 

"  No,  —  to  New  York  more  than  any  place,  but 
I  have  nc  home.  My  mother  died  when  I  was  a 
baby,  and  my  father  has  had  me  travelling  with  him 
almost  ever  since,  though  sometimes  he  would  put 
me  in  a  school  for  awhile." 

"  You  must  miss  him." 

"  I  do,"  said  Derrice,  quietly. 

"  You  won't  like  living  here  if  you  have  been  a 
globe-trotter." 

"Perhaps  I  may." 

"My  child,  —you  know  you  can  think  of  nothing 
more  dismal." 

"  I  will  not  say  that.  Miss  Gastonguay.'' 

"But  you  feel  it.  I  can  look  into  the  minds  of 
my  fellow  beings.  The  time  before  this  when  I  was 
reincarnated,  I  was  a  witch." 

Perrice  looked  at  her  in  irresistible  amuseipent, 


90 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


u 


<i 


«'Come  now,  Miss  or  Mrs.  New  Yorker,"  said 
Miss  Gastonguay,  vivaciously,  "  tell  me  what  is  your 
idea  of  New  England." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have  ever  formulated  any- 
thing. I  have  been  in  Boston  once  or  twice.  I 
liked  it." 

But  you  avoided  the  smaller  places." 
Yes ;   though   my  father  often  spoke  to  me  of 
Rossignol.     What  a  fi:  e  street  this  is !  " 

"  Isn't  it } "  and  Miss  Gastonguay  requested  her 
pony  to  slacken  his  pace.  One  large  white  or  yel- 
low house  succeeded  another.  All  stood  back  from 
the  street,  nearly  all  were  perched  on  high  banks 
with  flights  of  steps  approaching  them,  and  over  all 
hung  bare  yet  graceful  and  luxuriant  elms.  "Ah, 
the  New  England  elms,  how  I  love  them  !  "  said  Miss 
Gastonguay,  enthusiastically.  "  Do  you  know  that 
this  country  was  all  a  forest  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago .? " 

"  I  suppose  it  was,  —  1  don't  know  much  about  the 
history  of  this  State." 

"  It  seems  strange  now  to  think  of  those  days. 
This  lovely  river  had  only  Indians  on  its  banks. 
Then,  just  after  plucky  Jacob  Buswell,  in  1769, 
ascended  through  the  wilderness  beyond  here,  and 
hewed  out  a  place  for  his  log  cabin  on  a  spot 
where  a  cathedral  now  stands  in  Bangor,  Louis 
Gastonguay,   a    Frenchman,   and    relative    of    the 


,v 


A   DRIVE    WITH  A   STRANGE   GUIDE, 


91 


Baron  de  St.  Castin,  came  here,  and  founded  Ros- 
signol." 

"  How  interesting !  " 

"You  must  go  to  Bangor  when  summer  comes. 
We  go  up  to  it  as  the  people  about  Boston  and  New 
York  go  up  to  those  cities.  Rossignol  is  a  dear  little 
place,  but  small.  Strangers  get  tired  of  it.  Mind 
yourself  now,.  Fairy  Prince." 

The  white  pony  was  gathering  his  feet  cautiously 
together  preparatory  to  going  down  a  steep  hill. 
They  were  leaving  the  stately  street  behind  them, 
and  were  approaching  the  business  portion  of  the 
town. 

"There  is  our  post-office,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay, 
"  and  our  hotel,  and  lounging  on  the  veranda  is  our 
smartest  lawyer.  Captain  Sam  Veevers,  half  South- 
erner, half  Yankee,  —  a  good  combination.  He  lives 
in  the  hotel,  and  he  has  just  been  having  a  holiday  in 
the  woods,  fishing  through  the  ice.  If  you  and  Chelda 
make  friends,  you'll  often  see  him  up  at  our  house. 
I  think  he  is  an  admirer  of  hers,  but  I  am  not  sure, 
for  he  is  about  as  much  of  a  sphinx  as  she  is.  Now 
there  is  our  Bay,  isn't  it  a  beauty } " 

They  had  turned  a  corner,  and  Derrice  had  a 
complete  v\ew  of  the  town  and  its  surroundings. 
It  was  spread  over  a  plain  by  the  river  bank.  Hills 
dominated  it  on  either  side,  and  a  little  beyond  the 
town  the  river,  that  had  gathered  itself  together  and 


92 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


narrowed  visibly  to  rush  by  shops  and  houses,  ex- 
panded into  a  wide  and  gemlike  bay. 

"It  looks  like  a  lake,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay. 
"this  enlargement  of  the  river,  but  there  is  an 
opening  in  the  apparent  lake,  —  the  sea  is  but  a 
short  distance  away.  We  call  it  Merry  Meeting 
Bay,  because  out  there  are  five  little  rivers  leaping 
merrily  down  to  the  sea.  In  summer  the  hotels  out 
there  beyond  the  big  sardine  factories  are  opened. 
Lumber  and  fishing  and  the  sardine  industry  keep 
Rossignol  going,  you  know.     Isn't  the  view  lovely } " 

"  It  is  indeed,"  murmured  Derrice,  and  she  paused 
in  silent  admiration. 

"  Look  at  the  •  ice-cakes,  shouldering  and  smash- 
ing against  each  other  to  get  first  to  the  Bay,  where 
they  will  be  ground  to  powder  or  sucked  to  pieces. 
Just  like  human  beings  in  their  race  through  the 
world." 

"  Have  you  much  society  here } "  asked  Derrice. 

"  My  dear,  we  are  governed  socially  by  the  seven 
Mrs.  Potts.     Have  you  ever  heard  of  those  ladies } " 

"  Never." 

"  Where  has  she  been  raised  —  this  young  person 
—  that  she  has  never  heard  of  the  seven  Mrs.  Potts 
of  the  town  of  Rossignol  by  Merry  Meeting  Bay  ? " 
exclaimed  Miss  Gastonguay,  in  comical  dismay. 
*«  Look  across  the  river  at  these  seven  domed 
paansions  standing  in    solitary   grandeur   on   those 


A   DRIVE    WITH  A   STRANGE   GUIDE. 


93 


seven  small  hills.  Talk  about  the  seven  hills  of 
Rome !  They  pale  before  the  distinction  of  these 
hills." 

Derrice  laughed  at  the  exaggeration  of  her  tone, 
and  in  much  interest  gazed  across  the  semi-frozen 
river  at  the  glittering  pinnacles  and  roof-tops  of  the 
seven  pretentious  dwellings  of  the  seven  Mrs.  Potts. 

"  They  own  all  that  side  of  the  river.  When  we 
want  to  pay  court  to  them,  or  when  they  deign  to 
honour  the  town  with  a  visit,  they  drive  over  that 
bridge.  But  here  comes  rather  an  interesting  girl 
that  I  would  like  you  to  meet.  Halt,  voice  from 
the  wilderness ! " 

The  street  of  the  prosperous  little  town  was  full 
of  pedestrians,  and  numerous  wagons  were  drawn 
up  beside  the  pavement,  yet,  among  the  several 
passers-by  who  heard  the  salutation,  a  girl  readily 
detached  herself  from  a  group  and  approached  the 
cart.  Derrice  surveyed  her  with  interest.  She  was 
tall  and  of  a  singular  fragility  and  thinness  of  appear- 
ance, her  expression  was  nervous  and  strained,  and 
her  china-blue  eyes  scanned  the  stranger's  face  with 
an  eagerness  that  approached  intensity. 

"  Well,  Aurelia,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  agreeably, 
"  if  you  haven't  gone  mad  yet,  let  me  introduce  you 
to  our  latest  gain  in  the  way  of  arrivals,  —  Mrs. 
Justin  Mercer." 

The  two  girls  shook  hands,  and  Miss  Gastonguay, 


94 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


taking  advantage  of  the  moment  that  they  were 
engaged  with  each  other,  tried  to  lift  the  cover  of 
the  basket  on  Miss  Sinclair's  arm.  When  she  found 
that  it  was  tied  down,  she  said,  '*^What  have  you  got 
in  there,  Aurelia  Sinclair  ? " 

"  Eggs." 

«  For  whom .? " 

"Old  Mrs.  Graile  up  at  the  poorhouse,  —  she's 
dying." 

"Old  humbug,  she  ought  to  have  died  long  ago. 
You  only  want  to  be  admired  for  superior  sanctity 
to  go  ploughing  through  the  mud  up  there.  Come 
and  have  afternoon  tea  with  me." 

Aurelia  shook  her  head. 

"  Then  tell  this  young  lady  that  I  am  a  person  to 
be  trusted.  Otherwise  she  will  think  I  am  a  kind 
of  ogress  luring  her  to  my  den." 

Aurelia's  face  at  once  took  a  rapt  expression. 
Delicate  waves  of  colour  flowed  over  it,  and  in  r,  sweet, 
thin  tone  of  intense  admiration  she  extended  one 
hand  in  Miss  Gastonguay's  direction,  and  exclaimed, 
"  I  admire  to  give  the  character  of  such  a  woman  to 
a  stranger.  Mrs.  Mercer,  this  is  the  favourite  of  the 
town.  Everybody  loves  her,  everybody  trusts  her. 
She  will  speak  sharply,  but  her  tongue  is  always 
honest,  and  even  when  it  is  giving  deserved  reproof 
there  will  be  tears  in  her  kind  eyes.  I  am  proud 
to  have  this  chance  of  telling  Miss  Gastonguay  that 


A  DRIVE  WITH  A  STRANGE  GUIDE. 


95 


I  love  her  for  her  goodness  to  the  poor  of  this  town. 
—  She  is  —  " 

"Pony,"  cried  Miss  Gastonguay,  with  a  furiously 
red  face,  and  jigging  at  the  lines,  "  will  you  get  up  ? " 

The  pony,  however,  had  found  some  delectable 
morsel  in  the  gutter,  and  while  nosing  it  refused  to 
budge,  thereby  forcing  his  mistress  to  listen  to  the  tide 
of  Aurelia's  eloquence,  which  was  not  easily  stopped. 

"  When  there  is  sickness  or  death,"  she  went  on, 
rapidly,  "  who  is  first  at  the  bedside }  Always  Miss 
Gastonguay.  She  pretends  not  to  care,  —  she  laughs 
at  the  ministers  and  rarely  goes  to  church,  —  but  she 
is,  I  verily  believe,  one  of  the  best  Christians  in  the 
town.  She  obeys  the  commands  of  Christ,  —  some 
day  she  will  own  herself  a  humble  follower  of  the 
One  who  came  to  minister  to  the  lowly." 

"Pony,"  cried  Miss  Gastonguay,  in  despair,  "now 
I  am  going  to  beat  you  for  the  first  time  in  my  life," 
and  leaning  over  the  dashboard  she  whacked  him  so 
soundly  with  her  umbrella  that,  after  giving  one 
startled  glance  behind,  he  fled  madly  down  the  street, 
overturning  a  heap  of  tin  pans  on  the  curbstone,  and 
frightening  a  number  of  people  who  fancied  that 
a  runaway  was  upon  them. 

Derrice,  clutching  her  hat,  gave  one  glance  behind, 
and  saw  Aurelia  still  standing  on  the  sidewalk,  her 
hand  outstretched,  her  lips  moving,  her  attitude  that 
of  an  inspired  prophetess. 


96 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Miss  Gastonguay's  face  was  still  red  to  her  ears, 
and  she  did  not  speak  until  they  had  passed  several 
churches,  two  schoolhouses,  a  theatre,  many  shops, 
and  the  city  hall,  and  had  entered  on  a  road  bordered 
by  shabby  houses.  Then  she  waved  her  hand,  and 
said,  briefly,  "Our  neighbours,  the  mill  hands,  the 
most  honest  people  in  town,  but,  like  the  Gaston- 
guays,  not  fashionable ;  and  there  is  our  house,"  she 
went  on,  when  they  reached  a  place  where  four  roads 
met,  and  the  car  line  stopped. 

"  You  have  a  charming  situation,"  replied  Derrice, 
keenly  interested  in  the  long,  narrow  housei  built 
after  the  fashion  of  a  French  chateau. 

"Not  according  to  the  Rossignol  people.  It  is 
the  thing  to  live  down  the  river,  up  on  Blaine  Street 
where  you  do,  or  across  it,  as  near  the  Potts  as  they 
will  let  you.  No  one  lives  up  here  but  ourselves 
and  the  poor  cottagers  who  work  in  the  mills  farther 
up.  But  then  the  Gastonguays  never  do  things  like 
other  people,"  and  she  admonished  the  pony  to  take 
them  through  the  gates  of  the  avenue,  instead  of 
stopping  short  and  staring  mto  the  cart,  to  see  if 
he  could  find  an  explanation  for  the  unexpected  blow 
he  had  received  in  the  town. 

"It  is  curious,  —  the  limitations  in  choosing  a 
home,"  said  Derrice.  "A  stranger  coming  into 
a  place  does  not  understand." 

Miss  Gastonguay  did  not  reply.     She  had  been 


A  DKIVE  WITH  A  STRANGE  GUIDE. 


97 


struck  with  sudden  taciturnity,  and,  throwing  down 
the  lines,  allowed  the  pony  to  guide  them  to  the  spot 
where  he  chose  that  they  should  alight.  It  happened 
to  be  in  front  of  the  lowest  of  the  steps  leading  to 
the  house,  and  Derrice,  observing  him  narrowly, 
remarked,  "This  seems  to  be  an  intelligent  animal." 

"  He  isn't  an  animal,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  ab- 
ruptly, "  he  is  a  fairy  prince.  One  day  when  I  was 
a  witch  he  offended  me,  and  I  changed  him  from  a 
beautiful  young  man  into  this  shape.  Then  I  forgot 
the  charm  and  couldn't  effect  the  transformation,  so 
I  keep  him  about,  hoping  I  may  some  day  remember 
it.  Here,  prince,  help  me  off  with  my  coat,"  and 
slipping  the  bif  from  the  animal's  mouth,  she 
extended  an  arm. 

To  Derrice*  s  amusement  the  small  animal  daintily 
nodded  his  head,  then  deliberately  drawing  off  the 
man's  coat  from  Miss  Gastongnay's  shoulders,  held 
it  in  his  teeth,  and  politely  extended  it  to  her. 
"  Now  run  away  to  the  stable,"  she  said,  and  lightly 
turning  the  cart  on  one  wheel,  he  trotted  down  the 
drive. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


OF    MIXED    BLOOD. 


Upon  crossing  the  threshold  of  the  house,  Derrice 
found  herself  ::;  an  interior  evidently  copied  from  the 
French.  The  floors  were  of  hard  wood,  a  few  hand- 
some rugs  lay  about  them ;  there  was  an  abundance 
of  carving  and  gilding  in  the  drawing-room  that  they 
entered,  two  gilt  clocks,  two  mirrors,  and  a  trio  of 
high-backed  yellow  silk  sofas.  A  number  of  white 
and  gold  spindle-legged  chairs  stood  in  various  grace- 
ful attitudes  about  the  room ;  there  were  but  few 
hangings  and  draperies,  and  scarcely  a  cushion  to 
be  seen. 

"  I  hate  dust,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  in  an  explan- 
atory way,  "  and  upholstered  furniture  and  gewga.vs 
all  over  parlour  walls  make  me  ill.  The  Japanese 
are  the  only  people  who  know  how  to  furnish  a 
house.     You  like  this  room,  don't  you  ? " 

"Very  much,"  said  Derrice,  going  up  to  an  aro- 
matic Are  of  small  sticks,  burning  on  a  white-tiled 
hearth. 

"  These  spring  winds  nip  like  pincers,"  said  Miss 

98 


OF  MIXED  BLOOD. 


99 


Gastonguay,  stretching  out  her  own  hands  to  the 
blaze,  and  ctifling  a  yawn.  "  Dear  me,  I  wish  five 
o'clock  would  come." 

Derrice  slightly  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"  That  is  only  the  second  question  you  have  asked," 

said  Miss  Gastonguay.     "  Yes,  I  always  have  tea  at 

five,  —  a  fashion  I  picked  up  in  England.     Whether 

.  am  here,  or  not,  the  tray  comes  in.     If  I  don't  get 

it,  the  '^wins  have  it." 

"Ah,  —  you  have  children  in  the  house." 

"  Yes,  a  pair,  sixty-two  and  sixty-five.,  —  brothers, 
former  small  and  well-to-do  storekeepers  in  the  tovm 
—  ruined  by  drink — housed  in  the  asylum  for  the 
poor  —  rescued  by  me  —  faithful,  but  tiresome  ser- 
vants ever  since.     There's  one  of  them." 

An  old  serving-man  came  tiptoein;^  into  the  room. 
He  pretended  not  to  see  Miss  Gastonguay  for  an 
instant,  then  he  started  affectedly,  made  her  a  little 
bow,  and,  going  to  a  distant  corner,  brought  from  it 
a  tiny  white  table,  and  set  it  before  her.  Then  lift- 
ing the  top  of  a  white  silk  ottoman,  he  drew  from  a 
box  inside  an  exquisitely  embroidered  cloth,  that  he 
spread  over  the  table. 

Derrice,  whose  life  for  the  last  few  days  had  been 
one  of  tedious  monotony,  watched  with  interest  this 
self-conscious  high  prie«t,  who,  with  his  air  of  j^ro- 
found  mystery,  so  slowly  forwarded  the  ceremonies 
connected  with  the  brewing  of  a  cup  of  tea. 


160 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"Has  Miss  Chelda  come  in  yet,  Prosperity?'* 
asked  Miss  Gastonguay,  abruptly. 

"No,  ma'am,"  he  said,  hanging  his  head  like  a 
sheepish,  fooling  boy,  and  hurrying  from  the  room. 

"  Let  us  have  the  table  in  the  window,"  exclaimed 
Miss  Gastonguay,  "  so  we  can  take  in  the  view,"-  and 
at  imminent  danger  of  upsetting  it  she  seized  the 
fragile  article  of  furniture  and  dragged  it  across  the 
room. 

The  gray-haired  Prosperity,  coming  in  with  a  tray, 
looked  about  him  in  bewilderment,  until,  finally  dis- 
covering the  table  near  the  long,  narrow  window,  he 
deposited  his  burden  on  it,  and  tilted  himself  in  a 
sideways  fashion  from  the  room. 

Miss  Gastonguay  seated  herself,  silently  pointing 
to  a  chair  opposite.  Derrice  obediently  took  up  her 
position  close  to  the  window.  A  blustering,  im- 
perial March  sun  was  rolling  a  purple  eye  over  the 
hills  across  the  river  as  if  choosing  the  fittest  place 
for  his  descent  to  rest,  and  suddenly  poured  a  sheaf 
of  blood  and  yellow  rays  upon  the  top  of  the  highest 
house. 

Miss  Gastonguay  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  her 
face  contracted  as  if  in  physical  pain.  "How  un- 
earthly it  is,  —  how  pitiful  are  we !  " 

Derrice  turned  to  her  in  slight  surprise. 

"We  are  nothing  but  earthworms,"  she  said, 
vehemently,  "  nothmg  —  "  and  the  little  golden  spoon 


OF  MIXED  BLOOD. 


lOI 


in  her  hand  trembled  visibly.  "Crawling  ignobly 
over  the  earth's  surface.  Here  to-day,  gone  to- 
morrow, and  can't  get  what  we  want  while  we  stay  — 
Do  you  take  sugar  in  your  tea  } " 

"Thank  you— " 

"We  are  too  materialistic,  too  luxurious  in  our 
tastes,"  Miss  Gastonguay  went  on.  "  I  think  of  this 
great  nation  and  tremble,  so  young,  so  prosperous,  — 
what  is  to  be  the  end  of  us }  Are  we  to  follow 
Greece  and  Rome }  " 

Derrice  in  quiet  interest  stirred  her  tea  and  ex- 
amined the  wrinkled,  composite  face  opposite,  —  at 
times  so  square,  so  set,  so  taciturn ;  at  others  rto 
vivacious,  so  mobile,  so  open  in  expression.  "  I 
have  always  fancied  that  New  England  was  a  poor 
sort  of  a  place,"  she  said,  finally. 

"  I  dare  say,"  observed  her  hostess,  ironically,  "  you 
thought  our  towns  were  desolate,  our  farms  deserted, 
our  young  men  gone  West,  that  the  people  who  re- 
mained lived  in  slab  houses  wit^h  an  occasional  thing 
called  an  'apple  bee '  by  way  of  amusement." 

"Well,  not  exactly." 

"  I  say  the  trouble  is  net  poverty,  but  abundance," 
responded  Miss  Gastonguay,  warmly.  "There  are 
poor  districts,  I  will  not  deny  it,  especially  in  back- 
woods localities  or  away  from  railroads,  but  I  do  not 
know  that  life.  I  have  been  brought  up  in  towns. 
I  wish  I  had  not.     If  I  had  my  life  to  live  over,  I 


102 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


would  choose  the  cabin  in  the  wilderness.  Do  you 
know  who  my  most  prized  ancestor  was  ? " 

"  No,  I  do  not." 

"  Go  look  at  him,"  and  Miss  Gastonguay  waved 
her  hand  toward  the  opposite  end  of  the  apartment. 

Derrice  put  her  delicate  Limoges  cup  on  the  table, 
and  sauntered  away.  There  was  the  explanation  of 
Miss  Gastonguay's  mingled  masculinity  and  femi- 
ninity. From  a  massive  gilt  frame,  a  magnificent 
specimen  of  physical  manhood,  clad  in  full  Indian 
costume,  looked  calmly  down  at  the  Louis  Quinze 
furniture  of  the  room. 

"  Kanawita,  a  great  Tarratine  chief,"  called  Miss 
Gastonguay,  "in  copper  breastplate  and  festoons  of 
beads  and  wampum.  In  early  days  Louis  Gaston- 
guay built  a  truck-house  here  to  trade  with  the 
Indians.  His  son  fell  in  love  with  the  daughter  of 
Kanawita.  Louis  promptly  shut  him  up  in  a  block- 
house fort  to  cure  him  of  his  madness,  but  the  lad 
was  too  clever  for  him,  and  ran  away  and  got  the 
girl,  who  was  called  Chelda.  He  married  her,  and 
then  old  Louis  forgave  and  invited  them  here  to  the 
log-house  that  stood  on  the  site  of  this  chdteau. 
A  baby  was  born  and  named  Louis  for  him,  and  I 
am  the  granddaughter  of  this  second  Louis,  and  my 
niece  who  lives  with  me  is  the  child  of  my  late 
brother,  Charles  Gastonguay,  —  but  do  not  be  afraid 
of  me,  my  dear,  for  though  I  am  half  squaw  and  * 


OF  MIXED  BLOOD. 


103 


ought  to  spend  a  part  of  my  time  in  the  woods,  I 
shall  not  scalp  you  unless  you  contradict  me." 

She  had  come  to  stand  beside  Derrice,  and  her 
face  now  glowed  with  humour  and  kindliness  re- 
flected from  the  benign,  intelligent  features  of  the 
aged  chief  above  them. 

"  Oh,  Kanawita,"  she  continued,  after  the  manner 
of  an  invocation,  "  benighted  Indian,  yet  honest  man, 
what  deeds  to  make  you  blush  have  been  perpetrated 
on  this  spot  where  you  used  to  hunt  the  deer  and 
angle  for  the  wily  fish  !  These  Puritans,  —  "  and  she 
turned  to  Derrice,  —  "  these  sneaking,  canting  Puri- 
tans, ancestors  of  your  husband,  how  I  hate  them. 
Their  Bibles  and  psalm-books  in  one  hand,  their 
measuring  tapes  in  the  other.  Singing,  snivelling, 
cheating,  and  starting  in  horror  from  the  French 
and  English  who  drank,  diced,  swore,  and  were 
honest  men  and  not  hypocrites.  Are  you  a  Puritan, 
my  dear  ? " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  My  father  once  said  that 
we  were  of  mixed  French  and  American  blood.  We 
have  no  relatives  —  " 

"French,"  said  her  companion,  joyfully,  and  she 
acted  as  if  she  were  about  to  embrace  her,  but  was 
interrupted  by  Prosperity,  who  came  trotting  into 
the  room. 

"  Mrs.  Jonah  Potts  is  coming  up  the  avenoo." 

Miss  Gastonguay  immediately  fell  into  a  temper. 


104 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


"  Confusion  to  that  woman !  Chelda  isn't  at  -  home 
and  she  will  ask  for  me.  She  knows  I  hate  her. 
Prosperity,  tell  her  I'm  out,  —  no,  I  won't  lie  for  her, 
and  if  she  wants  to  see  me,  she'll  force  her  way  in,  for 
her  impudence  is  colossal.  But  do  you,  my  dear, 
escape  —  "  and  she  pushed  Derrice  toward  the  door. 
"  Run,  fly,  go  anywhere  you  like.  You  wouldn't  like 
her,  —  a  great  florid  creature,  whom  I  always  imagine 
sitting  on  her  children  and  killing  them.  I  assure 
you,  she  choked  and  smothered  and  dosed  the  sickly 
creatures  to  death,  with  her  perfumes  and  her  cush- 
ions, and  the  heat  of  her  house.  Faugh,  I  loathe  her. 
Prosperity,  if  you  don't  go  tell  her  to  take  a  ship  for 
Tarshish,  I'll  dismiss  you  to-morrow." 

The  old  man,  with  signs  of  suppressed  excitement, 
withdrew  to  the  hall,  and  Derrice  gazed  from  the  in- 
flamed visage  of  her  hostess  to  the  mountain  of  flesh 
waddling  in,  under  a  high-coloured  bonnet  and  flaunt- 
ing feathers. 

Derrice  slipped  by  Prosperity,  who  had  his  hand 
over  his  giggling  mouth,  and  passed  into  one  room 
after  another  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  house. 

She  might  have  imagined  herself  in  the  dwelling 
of  a  French  country  gentleman.  The  same  elegant 
reserve  in  the  matter  of  furnishing  from  a  well-filled 
purse  was  everywhere  apparent.  There  was  enough 
for  comfort,  even  for  luxury,  but  no  crowding,  no 
superfluity  of  ornament.     Everywhere  were  polished 


OF  MIXED  BLOOD, 


105 


floors,  handsome  rugs,  and  carefully  chosen  paintings, 
ail  on  foreign  subjects  and  all  brought  from  the 
mother  country  by  the  different  members  of  the 
house.  She  looked  into  a  dining-room,  where,  on  a 
huge  mahogany  table,  undisfigured  by  a  covering, 
stood  a  bowl  of  exquisite  roses  from  the  hothouse  of 
her  hostess.  Carved  cabinets  stood  about  this  room, 
and  with  a  lingering  step  she  paused  to  examine  some 
of  their  treasures  of  faience,  these,  too,  brought  from 
over  the  sea. 

Near  by  was  the  music-room,  with  high-backed 
stools,  green  velvet  benches  against  the  walls,  and  a 
variety  of  musical  instruments.  Derrice  was  no 
musician,  and  drawing  her  fingers  gently  over  the 
keyboard  of  the  grand  piano,  she  went  past  the  rows 
of  violins,  guitars,  and  banjos,  and  a  recess  containing 
a  small  organ,  until  she  reached  the  narrow,  severely 
carved  wooden  entrance  to  a  library. 

Here  she  lingered  for  a  long  time,  but  her  love  for 
adventure  being  stronger  than  her  love  for  literature, 
she  left  behind  her  the  cool,  quiet  atmosphere  of  the 
room,  with  its  faint  sweet  smell  of  leather  from  the 
rich  bindings  of  the  books,  and  again  made  her  way 
to  the  wide  hall  that  ran  through  the  house. 

*•  Do  you  think  I  might  go  up-stairs  ? "  she  asked, 
pausing  on  the  lower  step  of  the  staircase. 

"Yes,  miss,"  said  old  Prosperity,  and  he  stopped 
his  slow  walk,  and  uncrossed  the  hands  behind  his 


io6 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


back  in  order  to  make  a  gesture  that  would  urge  her 
on.  This  was  an  unusually  favoured  guest,  he  saw, 
and  one  whom  his  mistress  delighted  to  honour. 

"Miss  Gastonguay  likes  to  have  people  go  over 
the  house,  —  that  is,  if  she  asks  them,"  he  added. 

Derrice  went  slowly  upstairs.  She  admired  this 
house.  Here,  in  the  midst  of  a  New  England  com- 
munity, was  breathed  the  fragrance  of  the  Old 
World.  It  was  a  living  expression  of  the  tastes  of 
the  people  long  passed  away.  There  was  nothing 
glaringly  new  about  it,  there  was  a  complete  absence 
of  anything  deforming  or  ungraceful.  Even  the 
night  lamp  on  the  bracket  in  the  hall  above  was  of 
exquisite  workmanship.  By  scrupulous  attention  to 
detail,  a  most  symmetrical  whole  had  been  obtained. 

She  passed  the  open  doors  of  bedrooms,  all  long, 
white,  cool,  and  dainty,  all  having  snowy  beds  draped 
with  curtains  in  the  French  style.  Into  these  she  did 
not  enter,  but  contented  herself  with  pacing  up  and 
down  the  hall,  and  looking  from  the  windows  at  the 
wintry  March  landscape,  until  Prosperity  came  up 
the  staircase  and  spoke  to  her  between  the  railings. 

"  If  you  go  up  to  the  cupola,  miss,  you'll  have  a  fine 
view.  There  is  the  staircase,"  and  he  pointed  to 
the  back  of  the  hall. 

Derrice  followed  his  advice.  A  good-sized  cupola 
had  been,  by  some  injudicious  member  of  the  family, 
built   like   an   excrescence  on  the  roof  of  the   old 


OF  MIXED  BLOOD. 


107 


chiteau.  Going  up  the  dark  winding  stairway  with 
her  head  bent,  she  was  on  the  threshold  of  the  cup- 
shaped  apartment  almost  before  she  was  aware  of  it. 
She  heard  a  soft  rustle,  then,  gazing  blindly  into  the 
soft  haze  of  red  light  to  discover  the  cat  or  dog 
hidden  in  the  room,  found  instead  that  she  had 
invaded  the  retreat  of  .wo  people  who  had  evidently 
retired  here  to  be  alone. 

With  a  swift  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  was  about 
to  retreat,  carrying  with  her  a  picture  of  the  hand- 
some clergyman,  lounging  on  a  red  velvet  sofa  in 
dreamy,  contented  ease,  with  one  arm  extended  in  an 
aimless  curve  toward  a  tall  young  lady  who  stood 
calm,  erect,  and  triumphant  between  him  and  the 
doorway. 

But  an  appeal  recalled  her,  "  Mrs.  Mercer,  do  not 
go  away,"  and  Mr.  Huntington  rose  slowly;  "let 
me  introduce  you  to  Miss  Chelda." 

So  this  was  Miss  Gastonguay's  niece.  Derrice 
shook  hand"!  with  her,  looked  into  the  long,  narrow 
eyes  that  had  taken  on  their  usual  veiled  expression, 
and  watched  her  curiously,  as  she  lifted  a  graceful 
arm  to  draw  back  some  of  the  crimson  velvet  cur- 
tains obscuring  the  windows.  Derrice  sank  into  a 
low,  padded  seat,  a  contrast  to  the  stiff -backed  chairs 
below.  Probably  this  was  the  sanctum  of  the  petted 
niece,  and,  with  inward  disquiet,  she  wondered  how 
soon  she  could  with  propriety  withdraw. 


io8 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Chelda  turned  to  her  with  a  conventional  remark 
upon  her  lips,  but  it  was  not  uttered.  By  mutual 
consent  no  one  spoke,  so  touching  was  the  beauty 
of  the  twilight.  A  ruddy  glow  enveloped  the  light- 
roofed  town,  the  ice-blocked  river,  the  blue  bay, 
the  dull  and  sombre  wood  behind  the  house,  and 
beautified  even  the  snow  and  mud  of  the  mottled 
landscape  beyond. 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Derrice,  rising  suddenly.  "  It 
is  getting  late." 

"Nonsense,"  said  a  brisk  voice  in  the  stairway, 
and  Miss  Gastonguay  came  bustling  up.  "Good 
gracious,  Chelda,  I  thought  you  were  still  out, — 
and  you  too,  Mr.  Huntington." 

"  I  could  not  tear  myself  away,"  he  said,  his  face 
illumined  by  a  reminiscent  afterglow. 

"I  am  glad  you  couldn't.  Did  you  end  Chelda 
have  your  drive .?  " 

"  Yes,  aunt,"  said  the  voung  lady. 

"Then  you  came  up  here  for  cake  and  wine," 
said  Miss  Gastonguay,  glancing  at  a  bottle  in  a 
filigree  case,  and  a  silver  cake  basket  on  a  tiny 
table.  '*You  might  offer  Mrs.  Mercer  some.  I 
don't  believe  she  finished  her  tea." 

"  May  I  ?  "  said  Chelda,  gracefully. 

"No,  thank  you,"  and  Derrice  shook  her  light 
head. 

"That  whale  of  a  woman  drove  her   up-stairs," 


*« 


OP^  MIXED  BLOOD. 


109 


said  Miss  Gastonguay.  "  What  do  you  think  Mrs. 
Jonah  wants  now,  Chelda  ? " 

"  I  could  never  guess,  aunt." 

"  To  give  a  charity  ball,  to  relieve  the  distress  of 
the  mill  hands  burnt  out  at  Indian  Gardens.  *  Why 
don't  you  put  your  hand  in  your  pocket,  and  pull 
out  a  donation } '  I  asked.  *  What  do  you  pretend 
to  be  giving  to  them  for,  when  all  you  care  for  is  to 
get  up  a  midnight  frolic  for  a  lot  of  old  married 
women  who  want  to  frisk  about  with  young  men, 
in  gowns  they  ought  to  be  ashamed  uf }  They  ought 
to  be  home  taking  care  of  their  children.  Go  away 
with  you ;  I  have  nothing  for  you.  What  I  have 
for  the  mill  hands  I'll  send  direct.' " 

"  You  must  have  annoyed  her,  aunt." 

"  I  did  ;  she  went  away  in  a  temper." 

"  It  is  a  pity,  aunt.  Mrs.  Jonah  is  the  only  one 
of  the  set  we  have  not  quarrelled  with  this  year," 
said  Chelda,  with,  however,  but  a  very  faint  regret 
in  her  tone. 

"  She  was  delicious,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  laugh- 
ing. "She  said,  'Jane  Gastonguay,  you  had  better 
put  on  your  peaked  cap,  take  your  tomahawk,  and 
point  for  the  woods.'  Now  wasn't  that  a  delicate 
reminder  of  our  ancestry,  Mr.  Huntington  ? " 

"  Very  delicate,  considering  its  source." 

Derrice  got  up.  "Good-bye,  Miss  Gastonguay, 
and  thank  you  for  a  very  pleasant  afternoon." 


tie 


DEFtClEI^T  SAINTS. 


"Tut,  tut,"  and  her  hostess  refused  to  take  the 
offered  Land.  "  You  needn't  try  to  make  me  think 
you  are  anxious  to  get  back  to  Hippolyta  Prymmer. 
Dinner  will  be  ready  in  an  hour.  You'll  stay,  too, 
Mr.  Huntington  ?  " 

The  clergyman  did  not  reply.  Like  one  mesmer- 
ised he  turned  to  Chelda.  A  subdued  pleasure 
lighted  up  her  face,  and,  murmuring,  "  Of  course 
he  will,"  she  followed  her  aunt  and  Derrice  down 
the  staircase. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


TELL    ME    YOUR   SECRETS. 


At  eleven  o'clock  Miss  Gastonguay's  brougham 
stopped  before  the  Mercer  house,  and  the  coachman, 
pulling  up  his  horses,  looked  over  his  shoulder,  to 
see  whether  Derrice  was  opening  the  door.  She 
was,  having  been  told  by  Miss  Gastonguay  that, 
while  a  coachman  was  a  necessary  evil,  a  footman 
was  a  blot  on  modern  civilisation. 

The  man  watched  the  girlish  figure  hurrying  up 
the  steps,  waited  until  he  heard  the  door  open,  then, 
with  a  disapproving  smile  at  the  dull,  dark  house, 
drove  quickly  away. 

Derrice,  excited  and  refreshed  by  her  visit,  and 
the  attentioii  she  had  received,  almost  fell  into  her 
husband's  arms.     **  Oh,  Justin,  have  I  kept  you  up  ?  '* 

"  No,"  he  said,  and  he  led  the  way  to  the  dining- 
room,  where  the  gas  was  burning  brightly,  and  a 
book  was  lying  face  downward  on  the  table. 

"  Look  at  my  flowers ;  are  they  not  delightful  ? " 
and  she  displayed  a  bouquet  of  roses  and  geraniums. 
Very  delightful." 

Ill 


u 


tI2 


bEFlCmWT  SAINTS. 


9m_ 
^■1. 


"  I've  had  a  good  time,  —  such  a  good  time,  but 
who  are  those  people  ?  I  could  not  ask  many  ques- 
tions, and  I  had  no  time  with  Mr.  Huntington.  I 
thought  perhaps  you  would  not  like  my  going  there. 
Miss  Gastonguay  was  rot  very  polite  to  your  mother, 
but  I  don't  think  she  means  all  she  says,"  and  she 
paused  doubtfully. 

Justm  scarcely  heard  what  she  said.  He  was 
absorbed  in  examining  her  flushed,  charming  face, 
her  tumbled  hair,  her  youthful  self -posses  "ion,  with 
its  touch  of  timidity.  Not  since  they  had  come  to 
Rossignol  had  he  seen  her  so  excited  as  she  was 
at  present. 

"  Did  you  mind  my  going  i "  she  asked. 

"  No ;  nothing  you  could  have  done  would  have 
given  me  greater  pleasure." 

"  You  like  Miss  Gastonguay  ? " 

"  Yes." 

Derrice's  radiant  eyes  flashed  around  the  room, 
then,  shuddering  slightly,  she  drew  her  cloak  aboiit 
her. 

"It  is  dull  for  you  to  come  back  to  this  house," 
s«id  her  husband,  quietly.  "  You  feel  the  contrast 
between  it  and  Miss  Gastonguay 's  beautiful  home." 

She  dropped  her  head  to  his  hand  that  lay  out- 
stretched on  the  table.  "  It  is  like  a  stone  vault,"  sh  -^ 
whispeied  against  his  fingers;  "can't  we  leave  it?" 

She  w.'^s  so  chary  of  her  caresses  that  Justins' 


TELL  ME   YOUR  SECRETS. 


ns 


blood  grew  warm  in  his  veins,  though  his  manner 
became  troubled. 

'•Never  mind  to-night,"  she  went  on.  "I  don't 
want  to  vex  you.  Oh,  I  have  had  such  a  good 
time!"  and  slie  closed  her  eyes  rapturously  until 
a  sudden  misgiving  caused  them  to  fly  open.  "  You 
didn't  miss  me,  I  hope.^" 

*■'  I  always  miss  you." 

"But  not  with  a  hateful,  longing  miss.  Do  tell 
me  that  you  are  beginning  to  get  weaned  away  from 
me.  Oh,  I  should  be  so  glad  I  It  is  ridiculous  for 
you  to  be  so  fond  of  me.  Really,  it  just  makes  me 
laugh,"  —  and  she  shook  her  head  like  a  provoking 
child. 

"You  little  flirt,"  he  said,  composedly.  "You 
have  gone  out  and  got  your  blood  stirred,  and,  com- 
ing back  to  this  quiet  house,  you,  for  lack  of  other 
amusement,  wish  to  incite  me  to  make  love  to  you." 

"  It  isn't  that  at  all,"  she  said,  poutingly. 

"You  are  only  eighteen,"  he  observed. 

"I  am  sorry  you  regret  having  married  one  so 
young." 

"  I  don't  regret  it,  —  it  was  unavoidable." 

"  Why  didn't  you  wait  until  I  was  older  ? " 

"  Ah,  why  did  I  not  ? "  he  asked,  with  some 
humour. 

"Justin,"  she  said,  wistfully,  "there  is  some  mys- 
tery about  you  and  papa  and  myselfi  —  what  is  it  ? " 


114 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Her  husband  did  not  answer  her.  He  took  off 
his  glasses,  rubbed  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  stifled  a 
yawn,  and  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  You  are  provoking,"  she  said,  petulantly.  "  When 
you  don't  want  to  tell  me  anything,  you  just  keep 
stUl." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  tell  you  on  this  subject." 

"You  are  tired,  — I  must  not  keep  you,  but  just 
let  me  ask  you  two  or  three  questions.  What  is 
the  matter  with  Mr.  Huntington  } " 

"  Well,  I  think  he  has  some  mental  worry." 

"  He  acted  so  strangely  to-day.  I  came  suddenly 
upon  him  and  Miss  Chelda,  and  he  seemed  to  be  in 
a  state  of  perfect  bliss,  —  almost  silly  in  fact.  All 
through  dinner  —  ah,  what  a  nice  dinner  we  had, 
Justin !  —  he  was  the  same  way.  Then  afterward  we 
went  to  the  music-room  to  hear  Miss  Chelda  play. 
Her  execution  is  something  wonderful,  but  I  suppose 
you  know  all  about  it,  also  that  she  cannot  sing. 
Miss  Gastcnguay  wanted  me  to  try.  I  told  her  I 
had  only  a  little  faint  squeak  of  a  voice,  but  she 
insisted.  I  sang  one  song  after  another,  and  when  I 
finished  *  The  Land  c'  the  Leal  *  Mr.  Huntington 
looked  so  strangely,  and  finally  stepped  out  of  the 
room  and  left  the  house.  Miss  Chelda  didn't  say 
anything,  but  I  felt  that  she  didn't  like  it.  Was  it 
not  queer  of  him  not  to  take  leave  ?  " 

«  Very."^ 


TELL  ME  YOUR  SECRETS, 


"5 


"  I  would  like  to  know  what  is  wrong  with  him, 
but  I  see  you  won't  tell  me.  Do  you  like  Miss 
Chelda  ? " 

"I  don't  know  much  about  her,  except  that  she 
was  fond  of  making  faces  at  me  when  she  strutted 
about  the  streets  here,  a  little  overdressed  girl.  My 
father  used  to  be  intimate  with  the  Gastonguays 
before  his  marriage ;  but  they  have  never  liked  my 
mother  nor  me,  and  I  was  surprised  to  hear  that 
Miss  Gastonguay  had  called  to-day.  One  of  her 
whims  must  have  taken  possession  of  her." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Miss  Chelda  is  as  old 
as  you  are } " 

"  Almost." 

"  Why,  she  acts  as  if  she  were  as  young  as  I  am. 
I  dare  say  she  takes  something  off  her  age.  Girls 
often  do," 

"  Would  you  ? "  he  asked. 

"Well,  I  don't  need  to  yet.  Perhaps  I  will  some 
day." 

His  face  darkened,  and  he  absently  toyed  with  his 
glasses. 

"  You  are  a  very  proper  man,"  raid  his  wife,  teas- 
ingly.  "  I  believe  you  would  want  to  shake  me  if  I 
told  a  story.  I'll  have  to,  you  knov/.  Good  gracious, 
everybody  tells  stories." 

"  Please  don't  jest  on  such  a  subject." 

"  On  such  a  subject,  —  I  will  if  I  choose,  sir.     Oh, 


Ii6 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


what  a  fright  you  are  with  that  ugly  frown  on  your 
brow!  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  you.  I  think  I  will 
go  to  bed,  you  are  getting  tiresome.  Miss  Gaston- 
guay  is  so  amusing/'  and>  with  a  regretful  sigh,  she 
rose  to  leave  him. 

"You  like  Miss  Gastonguay,"  he  said,  with  quiet 
eagerness. 

"  Yes,  immensely.  At  first  I  could  not  make  her 
out.  Now  I  like  her  a  thousand  times  better  than 
that  niece  of  hers.  Miss  Chelda  is  queer,  —  just  like 
a  deep,  dark  river.  I  detest  people  who  look  at  me 
so  coolly  that  I  can't  tell  what  they  are  thinking 
about.     You  are  like  that  sometimes." 

Unmindful  of  this  thrust,  Justin  asked,  "  Did  she 
tell  you  anything  about  her  family  history  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,  she  said  her  house  was  called  French 
Cross  on  account  of  the  cross  her  Catholic  ancestor 
put  up  there,  and  she  showed  me  thi  picture  of  the 
old  chief  Kanawita,  and  some  day  she  is  going  to 
let  me  see  the  Indian  relics  she  has  stored  in  her 
attic." 

"  She  has  indeed  taken  you  into  favour,"  said  her 
husband,  in  a  tone  of  gratification. 

"What  does  it  matter  ? "  said  Derrice,  coldly.  "  I 
shall  probably  soon  be  leaving  here,"  and  she  lowered 
her  eyes,  for  a  sudden  mist  c^  tears  made  her  hus- 
band's figure  a  blur,  except  for  the  splash  of  light  on 
the  glasses  of  his  spectacles. 


TELL  ME  YOUR  SECRETS, 


117 


"You  do  not  feel  yourself  growing  more  con- 
tented?" he  asked. 

"Contented,  no,"  she  cried,  stretching  out  her 
arms  ;  "I  am  hoi  .esick,  —  homesick  for  my  father. 
Oh,  I  wish  he  would  come.  I  shall  beg  him  to 
do  so." 

'^  My  pooi  'Id,"  said  Justin,  softly,  "  what  can  I 
do  for  you  ? " 

"You  cannot  do  anything,"  she  said,  vehemently. 
"You  should  not  have  married  me  — "  and  she 
dashed  away  the  tears  from  her  eyes  in  order  to 
see  his  shocked  face. 

But  he  was  not  shocked.  He  seemed  rather  to  be 
thoughtfully  following  up  the  ramifications  of  some 
problem  connected  with  her  statement. 

"  Derrice,"  he  said,  abruptly  rising  and  putting  a 
hand  on  her  shoulder,  "you  are  nervous,  I  should 
not  allow  you  to  talk.     Good  night,  my  dear  child." 

"Good  night,"  she  said,  twitching  her  smooth, 
sloping  shoulder  away  from  his  hand,  but  without 
making  any  further  effort  to  leave  hlni. 

His  calm  features  became  suffused  with  compas- 
sion. "  Do  you  know  that  I  came  home  to-day  with 
a  carriage  to  give  my  dear  dolly  a  drive  ? " 

"  No ;  did  you  ? "  and  her  face  brightened. 

"  Yes,  and  1  found  her  absent." 

Derrice  breathed  a  gentle,  "  She  could  not  help  it. 
\i  she  had  known  —  " 


Ii8 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"And  all  the  evening,"  Justin  continued,  "the 
house  has  been  so  lonely." 

"  Has  it  ? "  she  said,  delightedly. 

"And  my  foolish  little  girl  comes  home  from  a 
visit  to  a  fine  house  where  apparently  nothing  but 
peace  and  happiness  reign  —  " 

"Yes,  it  is  a  charming  place,"  and  she  sighed. 

"And  where  she  saw  a  good-looking  man  os- 
tensibly making  love  to  an  interesting  young 
lady  —  " 

"  Yes,  he  was,  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"And  she  is  discontented  because  her  own  hus- 
band is  so  very  commonplace  —  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no  —  " 

"  And  this  other  man  is  so  superlatively  beautifulj 
and  has  such  entrancing  hair  and  such  melting  eyes," 
said  Justin,  sarcastically,  "and  also  having  been  a 
former  friend  of  the  discontented  doll,  she  suffers 
from  the  pangs  of  jealousy." 

"  She  does  not,"  said  Derrice,  decidedly. 

"  Tell  me  how  much  you  knew  of  Bernal  Hunting- 
ton in  former  days } "  said  Justin.  "  I  have  not  had 
a  chance  to  ask  you  before.  Come,  sit  on  my  knee, 
dolly,  and  tell  me  about  it." 

Derrice  shrugged  her  shoulders,  then  shook  her 
head  so  vehemently  that  her  whole  mass  of  light 
hair  came  tumbling  about  her  shoulders.  "  I  never 
flirted  with  him,  Justin." 


TELL  ME  YOUR  SECRETS. 


119 


"  I  should  hope  not.  You  were  too  young.  Where 
did  you  meet  him  ? " 

"In  western  Canada.  When  we  were  travelling 
we  often  met  nice  girls,  and  my  father  always  took 
me  to  see  them  if  he  could.  Once  we  met  an  Eng- 
lish girl  on  a  Cunard  steamer.  She  was  going  to 
visit  her  brother,  who  had  a  ranch  in  Manitoba.  I 
liked  her  ever  so  much,  and  the  next  year,  after  we 
had  been  doing  the  Rocky  Mountains,  my  father  took 
me  to  the  nearest  town  to  the  ranch.  This  girl  and 
her  brother  used  to  drive  into  town,  —  oh,  such  queer 
sights  they  would  be,  for  if  they  couldn't  get  horses 
they  took  mules.  The  people  used  to  come  in  from 
all  the  country  round  about,  particularly  if  there  were 
dances  at  the  hotel.  Among  them  was  a  handsome 
New  Yorker  who  was  visiting  a  cousin.  They  called 
him  Lucifer,  or  the  son  of  the  morning,  from  a  little 
play  they  acted.  How  stunning  he  used  to  look, 
Justin,  driving  in  with  his  cousin's  tandem,  or  else 
riding  on  horseback!  He  had  a  friend  with  him 
called  Mr.  Denham,  and  finally  they  came  to  stay  at 
our  hotel.  I  was  too  young  to  go  to  the  dances,  but 
Mr.  Huntington  often  talked  to  me,  and  I  simply 
adored  him.  But  one  day  my  father  suddenly  said  we 
must  leave.  I  don't  think  he  liked  Mr.  Huntington, 
but  I  am  not  sure.     You  know  he  never  talks  much." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Justin,  absently  stroking  her 
hair. 


120 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


'*  The  girls  were  crazy  about  Mr.  Huntington,  — - 
simply  crazy.  You  know  there  are  some  men  that 
women  just  rave  about." 

"And  some  uninteresting  ones  like  myself  that 
they  don't  care  a  fig  about." 

"  No,  not  uninteresting,"  said  Derrice,  sweetly. 

"  Undemonstrative,  then  ? " 

**  Yes." 

He  smiled,  and  turned  his  head  away. 

"  Tell  me  why  you  were  in  such  a  hurry  to  marry 
me  ? "  she  whispered  in  his  averted  ear,  "  and  why 
my  father  seconded  you  ?  " 

Justin  promptly  kissed  her  teasing  mouth. 

"  Let  me  go,"  she  said,  laughingly,  "  I  don't  like 
you  when  you  are  silly." 

He  smiled  and  detained  her.  "  I  must  be  silly  long 
enough  to  tell  you  that  it  grieves  me  to  know  that 
my  wife  can  look  with  envy  upon  people  who  are 
apparently  happy,  and  say  to  herself,  'I  ?,ni 
alone  in  the  world,  no  one  loves  me.'  Will  you 
try  to  remember  that  you  are  the  centre  of  at- 
traction in  this  whole  universe  for  me,  and  also 
for*  your  father  ?  Our  hearts  are  bound  up  in  you, 
dolly." 

"  Are  they,"  she  murmured,  and  putting  up  one 
plump  hand  she  gently  caressed  his  cheek. 

He  coloured  vividly,  and  put  her  out  of  his  arms. 
**  Run  away  now,  darling,  —  and  go  softly  past  my 


TELL  ME  YOUR  SECRETS. 


121 


mother's  door.  This  is  an  extravagantly  late  hour 
to  her." 

She  seemed  reluctant  to  leave  him.  "Justin," 
she  said,  hanging  about  the  threshold  of  the  door, 
"  I  know  I  am  not  satisfactory  as  a  wife,  but  I  will 
try  to  do  better,  —  I  am  not  very  old  yet." 

Without  answering  her  he  remained  standing  on 
the  hearth-rug. 

"And  I  like  you  better  than  I  did,"  she  said, 
shyly ;  "  perhaps,  when  I  get  quite  wise,  you  will  tell 
me  all  your  secrets } " 

"Perhaps,"  he  said,  calmly. 

She  smiled  her  own  sweet,  mischievous  smile,  and, 
waving  her  hand  to  him,  hurried  up-stairs.  He  stood 
intently  listening  until  the  sound  of  her  light  foot- 
step had  died  away ;  then  picking  up  the  gloves  and 
the  lace  handkerchief  that  she  had  dropped,  he 
pressed  them  to  his  lips,  and  late  as  it  was,  threw 
himself  in  a  chair  by  the  table,  and  sat  staring  in- 
tently at  them.  Some  trouble  threatened  his  young 
wife,  and,  resourceful  and  clear-headed  as  he  was,  his 
knotted  brow  showed  that  he  saw  but  little  chance 
of  averting  it. 


f^ 


CHAPTER   X. 


A   REFORM   IN   THE   BILL   OF   FARE. 


"Justin,"  said  Captain  White,  a  few  days  later, 
"that  child  is  starving  herself." 

The  two  men  had  just  left  the  house,  and  were  on 
their  way  to  the  town. 

"  I  know,"  said  Justin,  in  a  puzzled  voice,  "  and  I 
am  wondering  what  to  do." 

*'  Have  you  spoken  to  your  mother  ? " 

"  Yes ;  I  told  her  that  Derrice  was  dainty  about 
her  food,  and  there  must  be  a  change  in  our  diet." 

"  What  did  she  say  >  " 

"  Nothing ;  she  apparently  agreed  to  what  I  said. 
Micah,  I  am  afraid  I  have  got  to  set  up  housekeeping 
for  myself." 

«  You  couldn't  put  that  baby  in  charge  of  a  house, 
Justin." 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  And  no  boarding-house  would  content  her ;  she'd 
want  a  first-class  hotel." 

"Yes." 


stt 


A  REFORM  IN  THE  BILL   OF  FARE. 


123 


"  And  you  can't  afford  that." 

"  No." 

"  And  you  don't  know  what  to  do.  Will  you  leave 
it  to  me  ? " 

"Yer." 

"All  right,"  and  Captain  White  swung  himself 
round  a  near  corner  and  disappeared.  That  day  he 
came  home  later  than  usual  to  dinner,  and  standing 
by  the  table  looked  with  a  contemptuous  air  at  the 
meagre  roast  of  mutton,  the  half-dozen  potatoes  re- 
posing in  their  jackets  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  dish, 
the  small,  uninviting  slabs  of  turnip,  and  the  few 
canned  peas  peeping  timidly  from  a  blue  bowl. 

Mrs.  Prymmer  glanced  up  pleasantly  when  he 
came  in.     "  Give  Micah  some  mutton,  Justin." 

"  No,"  vociferated  Captain  White,  "  don't  give  him 
any." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  was  surprised.  Her  cousin  was 
something  of  a  favourite  with  her,  in  spite  of  his 
abruptness  of  speech,  for  he  represented  so  many 
dollars  and  cents,  —  a  most  important  item  in  her 
housekeeping. 

"  Have  some  potato  and  turnip,  then,"  she  said, 
agreeably. 

"  No,  I  won't  have  any  turnip  and  potato,"  and, 
instead  of  sitting  down  in  his  usual  place,  he  threw 
himself  on  the  sofa,  and  sulkily  surveyed  the  three 
people  at  the  table.     Derrice  went  on  toying  with 


V,M 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


her  slice  of  meat.  Justin  remained  imperturbable, 
while  MrR.  Prymmer  was  in  despair.  A  recalcitrant 
boarder,  —  the  thought  was  misery,  for  the  next  step 
would  be  his  loss.  Justin's  protestations  and  Der- 
rice's  disdain  were  nothing.  They  were  not  boarders, 
but  her  cousin  must  be  propitiated. 

"  If  I  had  thought,  Micah,"  she  said,  hastily,  "  I 
would  have  made  some  caper  sauce." 

"  Caper  sauce,"  he  said,  contemptuously.  "What's 
caper  sauce  when  the  whole  dinner's  backsliding !  " 

Mrs.  Prymmer  said  nothing  more  until  an  attenu- 
ated jam  roll  came  on,  when  she  observed,  feebly, 
"  Let  me  pass  you  a  bit  of  pudding,  Micah ;  you'll 
want  something  to  stay  your  stomach  before  night." 

"To  stay  my  stomnch,"  he  roared,  with  well-as- 
sumed fury.     "  I  am't  got  any  left ;  it's  all  worn  out." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  subsided  after  this,  ai^d  her  son 
and  his  wife  finished  their  meal  in  silence. 

"Derrice,"  said  Justin,  drawing  his  wife  aside 
before  he  left  the  house,  "  you  will  find  some  fruit 
in  yor-  roovt?.  Have  patience,  dear,  —  the  bill  of  fare 
will  soon  i,iiprove." 

Derrice  smiled  sweetly  under  his  gentle  touch, 
and  when  he  kissed  her,  and  murmured,  "Patient 
little  wife,"  she  blushed  with  pleasure,  and  went  to 
the  window  to  watch  him  going  with  his  slow  and 
measured  pace  down  the  different  flights  of  steps  to 
the  street. 


A  REFORM  IN  THE  BILL   OF  FARE. 


125 


Mrs.  Prymmer  meanwhile  sat  in  the  dining-room, 
trembling  like  a  person  awaiting  doom,  and  fas- 
cinated helplessly  by  the  strangely  fiery  eye  of  her 
cousin. 

"Hippclyta  Prymmer,"  he  was  saying,  angrily, 
"haven't  I  been  boarding  in  this  here  house  for 
twenty  years } " 

"  Yes,  Micah." 

"  Haven't  I  paid  you  out  good  board  money  all  the 
time,  —  eleven  dollars  a  week  "i " 

"  Yes,  Micah." 

"  Come  now,  —  you've  found  counterfeit  money 
among  it,  —  there's  been  a  bad  quarter,  a  shady 
greenback .? " 

"  No,  Micah,  there  hasn't." 

"  Then  what  do  you  mean  by  treating  me  so } " 

"Micah,"  she  said,  trembling  more  violently,  "I 
don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Ain't  you  getting  old } "  he  inquired,  lashing  him- 
self into  a  yet  more  violent  passion. 

"I  don't  know, — yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"Ain't  I  getting  old.?  Look  at  the  gray  hairs 
creeping  in  my  head.  Look  at  the  tracP.s  of  the  old 
crow.  Does  it  stand  to  reason  that  my  appetite's 
what  it  used  to  be .? " 

"  I  haven't  noticed  any  difference,  Micah." 

"  Haven't  you .? "  he  exclaimed,  in  violent  sarcasm. 
*^  You  think  I  can  eat  cold  meat,  cold  potatoes,  and 


126 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


porridge  just  like  I  used  to  twenty  years  ago  ? 
You've  brought  me  up  on  it,  and  you  think  I  can 
stay  on  it." 

"I  —  I  never  thought  about  it,  Micah." 

"  Well,  you've  got  to  think,  or  you'll  see  a  pair  of 
soles  flashing  down  the  street.  Does  it  stand  to 
reason,  because  you've  been  brought  up  on  plain 
food  and  are  tough  as  door  nails  on  it,  that  you've 
got  to  stick  to  it  ? " 

"I  —  I  don't  know--"  and  in  utter  confusion 
Mrs.  Prymmer  tried  to  wonder  whether  her  usually 
self-possessed  cousin  was  going  crazy. 

*'  I've  got  to  clear  out,"  he  said,  suddenly  rising 
and  flinging  himself  toward  the  door.  "You  don't 
want  to  please  me,  —  you  don't  care  if  I  starve  to 
death.  I'll  go  down  to  the  hotel.  Good-bye,  Hip- 
polyta.  If  any  one  dies,  send  for  me,  and  I'll  come 
to  the  funeral." 

"  Micah,  stop  !  stop  ! "  cried  the  unhappy  woman, 
clinging  to  him.  "  I  can't  spare  your  board  money. 
Justin's  salary  isn't  large,  and  my  rents  are  slow 
coming  in,  and  I've  got  to  keep  you.  Tell  me  what 
I  can  do  ?  " 

"You'll  not  do  it,"  he  said,  trying  to  get  away 
from  her. 

"  I  will,  I  will,  Micah,  only  try  me,"  and  genuine 
tears  started  in  her  eyes. 

Captain  White  flung  himself  back  on  the  sofa  and 


A  REFORM  IN  THE  BILL   OF  FARE. 


127 


tried  not  to  look  at  her.  "  There'll  be  too  much  to 
do,"  he  said,  gloomily. 

"  No,  no.     I'll  do  anything." 

"Would  you  give  me  hot  biscuits  for  break- 
fast, and  strong  coffee,  —  none  of  your  slops,  and 
you've  got  to  rinse  out  the  coffee-pot  every  morn- 
ing and  not  hold  it  over  from  one  morning  to 
another  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes  —  " 

"Keep  still  till  you  hear  what  more's  to  come. 
Always  hot  potatoes,  fried,  or  in  chips,  or  some  fancy 
way,  and  a  chop,  or  steak,  or  liver  and  bacon,  or 
some  such  thing,  and  corn  bread — " 

"  I'll  do  it, "  she  sighed,  "  though  it  will  be  an 
awful  trouble,  and  I'll  have  to  get  up  an  hour 
earlier." 

"And  fruit  to  start  with.  Always  apples,  or 
oranges,  or  pears,  grapes,  peaches,  or  whatever's  in 
the  market." 

"  Yes,  you  shall  have  it,  Micah." 

"  And  for  dinner,  soup  always,  and  fish,  and  two 
kinds  of  meat,  and  three  kinds  of  pudding  or  pie, 
and  more  fruit  and  coffee  and  tea." 

"But  the  money,"  she  gasped^  —  "it  will  cost  a 
fortune." 

"  Ain't  I  going  to  pay  you,  —  just  you  wait ;  and 
a  hot  supper  such  as  you  get  at  hotels.  None  of 
your  bread  and  butter  and  preserves  and  weak  tea 


128 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


arrangements.  Now,  do  you  hear  all  that,  and  can 
you  do  it  ? " 

"Yes,  Micah,  I  can,"  she  said,  firmly.  She  had 
grasped  the  situation  now.  "  But  you've  got  to  pay 
me  — 

"  Well,  how  much  }  —  name  your  price  now,  and 
don't  cheat  n\e." 

"  I'll  have  to  reckon  it  up ;  but  I  should  say  it 
would  be  as  much  as  fourteen  dollars." 

"  Fourteen  dollars  !  —  call  it  twenty.  I'll  pay  you 
twenty  dollars  a  week  if  you'll  set  mr  "!■  a  table 
as  I  describe.  Mind,  no  scrimping,  and  no  setting 
before  me  dishes  that  ain't  for  the  rest  of  the  family, 
to  make  me  feel  mean.  And  you've  got  to  have 
enough  for  me  to  bring  a  friend  in  any  time  I  choose. 
And  any  day  you  don't  suit  me,  I'll  clear  out  to  the 
hotel.  I  am  going  down  there  now  to  get  my 
dinner,  and  you  can  spend  the  afternoon  laying  in 
supplies,"  and,  holding  both  hands  over  his  mouth, 
he  rushed  from  the  room. 

He  left  his  cousin  standing  in  the  middle  .A  s- . 
floor,  a  prey  to  resentful  suspicion.  Her  eye  fell  on 
Derrice's  half-eaten  jam  roll,  and  she  was  just  mut- 
tering, "  I  bel;  eve  that  girl  is  at  the  bottom  of  it," 
when  the  girl  icrself  stood  before  her. 

"Is  Captair  White  ill ? "  she  asked,  in  concern. 

"  No;  he  is  fussing  about  his  food.  Did  he  say 
anything  to  yc  u  about  it } " 


A  REFORM  IN  THE  BILL  OF  FARE. 


129 


th, 


"  No,"  replied  Derrice,  calmly,  and  going  back  to 
the  parlour  she  watched  the  lean  ex-sailor  rolling 
down  the  street  in  a  more  eccentric  fashion  than 
usual. 

He  was  choking  and  swaying  with  laughter.  "  I'm 
giving  her  something  to  do  besides  i^ttending  divine 
service  and  bullying  her  daughter-in-law.  She'll 
have  to  stay  at  home  and  cook.  Hippolyta  Prym- 
mer,  you'll  find  me  most  as  hard  as  your  other 
master,  the  devil,"  and,  trying  to  suppress  his  hila- 
rious amusement,  he  entered  the  hotel,  where  he 
presently  had  a  door  full  of  waiters  gazing  at  him 
over  each  others'  shoulders  in  astonishment  at  the 
celerity  with  which  he  cleared  one  dish  after  another 
of  those  set  before  him. 

Justin,  meanwhile,  was  having  another  kind  of 
experience.  The  big  brick  building  to  v/hich  he 
turned  his  steps  was  down  by  the  river  bank.  All 
through  the  town  the  river  was  bordered  by  a  mas- 
sive stone  wall,  upon  which  many  of  the  principal 
stores  and  offices  were  founded. 

From  the  windows  of  the  cashier's  room  one 
looked  directly  on  the  river,  and  into  this  room 
Justin  had  entered  upon  arriving  at  the  scene  of  his 
daily  occupation.  He  was  standing  engaged  in  con- 
versation with  his  assistant  when  a  sudden  shriek 
outside  (aused  thorn  both  to  hurry  to  the  window. 

A  child  had  fallen  from  a  house  neai  by  on  one  of 


130 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


the  large  cakes  of  ice  whirling  about  the  narrow 
channel.  Her  position  was  dangerous,  for  she  was 
too  small  to  understand  the  directions  shouted  to 
her  to  throw  herself  flat  on  her  face  and  cling  to  the 
ice  until  an  attempt  could  be  made  to  rescue  her. 
Instead  of  heeding  the  warning  voices,  she  extended 
her  little  arms  toward  her  agonised  mother,  while  her 
pitiful  cries  caused  tears  to  spring  to  the  eyes  of 
every  one  who  saw  her. 

The  ice-cake  on  which  she  sustained  her  precarious 
footing  swung  under  the  bank  window.  Justin  looked 
down  at  the  light  head  so  strangely  like  Derrice's, 
then,  without  a  word,  he  lowered  himself  cautiously, 
and  dropped  in  the  clear  streak  of  water  next  the 
wall.  Making  a  few  strokes  he  succeeded  in  catch- 
ing hold  of  the  mass  of  ice  and  in  inducing  the  small 
child  to  sit  down. 

Lower  down,  men  with  poles  and  ropes  were 
waiting.  The  danger  to  the  child  was  not  as  great 
as  that  to  himself,  for  he  feared  to  draw  himself  up 
on  the  raft  of  ice  lest  his  weight  should  too  much 
depress  it  and  disturb  the  little  one  now  crouching 
on  it.  Carefully  he  tried  to  guide  it  toward  the 
rescuers,  keeping  meanwhile  a  watchful  eye  on 
other  swinging,  pursuing  blocks  behind.  One,  how- 
ever, was  too  persistent  for  him.  He  tried  to  allow 
it  to  pass,  to  crowd  himself  against  the  stone  wall, 
but  it  turned  a  ragged  edge,  and  he  received  a  blow 


A   REFORM  m  7-^5  BILL   OF  FARE. 


t3t 


on  the  temple.  Dizzy,  fainting,  and  vn'th  eyes  full 
of  blood,  he  felt  himself  sinking  down  into  the  river, 
away  from  light  and  hope,  and  all  things  pleasant 
and  attractive. 

When  he  came  to  himself  he  found  that  he  was 
lying  on  his  own  bed,  and  his  mother  and  Captain 
White  were  bending  over  him. 

Both  their  faces  were  drawn  with  anxiety,  but 
they  grew  relieved  at  his  feeble  smile. 

"  He's  come  to,"  said  Captain  White,  gleefully. 

An  old  man  advanced  from  a  corner.  "I  told 
you  it  would  hot  be  long.  It  was  only  a  slight  con- 
cussion." 

"Slight  concussion,"  grumbled  Captain  White, 
"  combined  with  almost  total  drowning.  Well,  old 
boy,  how  do  you  feel } " 

"  Shaken  up.     Did  they  get  the  child  } " 

"  Yes,  squealing  like  a  pig  to  think  you'd  left  her." 

"Who  got  me  out.?" 

"I  performed  that  little  service.  I  was  sitting, 
taking  my  dinner  in  the  hotel,  when  I  heard  a  great 
racket,  and  saw  waiters  running  toward  the  pantry 
windows.  I  ran  too,  —  saw  you  coming  along  under 
the  hotel  wall,  ramming  the  child  ahead ;  then,  right 
within  smell  of  good  food,  you  went  down  like  a 
stone.  I  went  like  another,  thanking  my  lucky 
stars  that  I'm  as  much  at  home  in  the  water  as  a 
rat,  but  I  did  better  than  you,  for  I  took  a  rope  with 


132 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


me.  You  know  they  always  keep  one  at  the  hotel 
in  case  of  accidents.  I  clutched  you,  and  up  we  came 
together,  thanks  to  the  waiters.  How  are  you 
now .? " 

"  Better.     Where  is  Derrice }  '* 

« I  don't  know ;  out  somewhere.  I  wish  she 
would  get  home  without  hearing.  Some  one  will 
have  the  kindness  to  frighten  her  to  death.  Sharks 
and  tommy  cods,  here  she  comes!  Look  at  your 
mother  trying  to  stop  her.  What  wild  geese  women 
are!" 

There  was  no  stopping  Derrice.  With  a  deathly 
white  face,  and  round,  startled  eyes,  she  flew  straight 
to  the  bed,  and,  seeing  the  spots  of  crimson  on  her 
husband's  bandaged  head,  slipped  down  beside  him, 
and  promptly  fainted. 

"She  ought  to  have  been  kept  out,"  said  Mrs. 
Prymmer,  in  annoyance,  while  she  went  to  a  drawer 
for  hartshorn. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  girl  had  recovered,  and, 
seizing  one  of  her  husband's  hands,  knelt  on  the 
floor  beside  him,  and  buried  her  face  in  the  bed- 
clothes. Not  a  word  would  she  speak,  even  when 
addressed,  until  an  hour  had  passed,  and  Mary  had 
rung  the  supper  bell  from  below. 

"Well,  I  suppose  we've  got  to  eat,"  said  Captain 
White,  sauntering  along  the  hall,  and  looking  in  the 
door.      "  You  don't  feel  like  coming  down,  Justin  ? " 


A  REFORM  IN  THE  BILL   OF  FARE. 


133 


"  I  believe  I  will  lie  still ;  my  head  is  light  yet." 

"I  will  stay  with  him.  Go  down,  you  all,"  and 
Mrs.  Prymmer  stared  at  Derrice,  whom  she  never 
mentioned  by  name,  if  she  could  possibly  avoid 
doing  so. 

The  girl  raised  her  pale  fact.  "  I  will  stay  with 
him." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Prymmer,  obstinately.  "  You  go 
down.     I  am  his  mother." 

"  And  I  am  his  wife,"  exclaimed  Derrice,  springing 
to  her  feet. 

Mrs.  Prymmer  quailed  before  her  haughty  ges- 
ture. She  was  beaten,  and,  while  Justin  and  Captain 
White  maintained  a  discreet  silence,  she  precipitated 
herself  with  angry  celerity  tov  ard  the  staircase. 

Derrice  waited  until  she  heard  her  rnter  the 
dining-room ;  then  she  turned  to  her  husband,  who 
had  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  was  staring 
fixedly  at  her,  his  breath  coming  hard  and  fast,  his 
eyes  bright  with  a  strange  expectancy. 

"Justin,"  she  said,  vehemently,  "what  is  the 
matter  with  me  ?  I  feel  as  if  I  could  strike  any 
one  that  kept  me  from  you." 

The  jealousy  of  a  new-born  love  animated  the 
passionate,  almost  fierce,  little  figure  beyond  him. 
In  secret  and  exultant  pride  the  young  man  marked 
her  burning  eye,  the  convulsive  heaving  of  her 
beautiful  breasti  and  her  nervously  extended  hands. 


IM 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


«  Come  here,  Derrice,"  he  said,  quietly. 

She  went  readily  to  him,  the  young  wife  who  had 
always  been  so  shy,  and,  surrendering  herself  un- 
heedingly  to  his  caresses,  struggled  in  vain  for 
self-control. 

"  It  was  such  a  shock,  —  I  heard  you  were  dead. 
I  ran,  then  I  stopped ;  my  breath  was  all  gone.  I 
thought  of  my  father,  but  it  did  not  comfort  me. 
Justin,  am  I  going  mad  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  and  in  intense  and  long-mastered  emo- 
tion, he  drew  her  head  to  his  breast.  "Lie  there, 
dear  child,  and  rest ;  you  do  not  wish  to  leave  me  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  she  murmured.  "  I  have  been  a  bad 
wife  to  you.  I  thought  of  it,  and  my  heart  stood 
still.  I  vill  do  what  you  say  now,  I  promised  my 
father  to  be  good." 

A  sigh  of  ineffable  satisfaction  escaped  his  lips. 
Very  gently,  in  order  not  to  startle  her,  he  drew  her 
closer  to  him,     "  Derrice,  this  is  love." 

« Is  it  ?  It  is  more  like  death,"  c*nd,  raising  her 
head,  she  looked  sharply  at  him. 

«  To  love  is  to  suffer,  darling." 

"  And  is  this  the  way  you  have  been  feeling  about 

me?" 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  cannot  describe  the  long-drawn-out 
misery  of  the  past  few  weeks." 

In  proud,  sweet  dignity  she  put  her  arms  around 
hU  neck,  kissed  bim  once,  then  gently  forced  his 


A   REFORM  IN  THE  BILL   OF  FARE. 


135 


head  back  on  the  pillow.  "  I  shall  never  make  you 
suffer  again,  and  now  I  must  enforce  the  doctor's 
orders.     You  are  to  be  kept  still." 

In  a  fascinated,  incredulous  ecstasy  he  watched 
her  as  she  took  up  her  position  at  his  bedside.  He 
could  not  persuade  her  to  talk,  and  when,  with  an 
irrepressible  remark,  he  occasionally  lifted  his  head, 
she  immediately  averted  her  own,  and  he  had  a 
glimpse  only  of  a  pale,  happy  cheek.  However, 
she  sometimes  extended  a  hand,  and,  with  an  air 
quite  grandmotherly,  smoothed  the  coverlet,  or 
pressed  his  fingers,  in  order  to  assure  him  that 
she  was  not  sleeping  at  her  post  of  duty. 


i 
■ 

i          ! 

■  .    ■■ 

■  ! 

!    ■     ■- 
{ 

I-' 

^ 

• 

CHAPTER   XI. 


IN   THE   MIDST    OF    LIFE   WE    ARE    IN    DEATH. 


The  day  after  Justin's  escape  from  the  river, 
h*e  went  about  with  an  unusually  thoughtful  face. 
There  was  something  on  his  mind,  and,  with  a  vari- 
ation of  his  usually  methodical  habits,  he  several 
times  left  his  desk  to  go  to  the  bank  door  and  look 
up  and  down  the  street. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Miss  Gaston- 
guay  came  down  Main  Street  with  her  usual  gait, 
that  aimed  at  being  a  stride  but  ended  in  a  trot  when 
she  went  quickly,  on  account  of  the  shortness  of  her 
limbs.  In  the  middle  of  the  street,  carefully  keeping 
abreast  of  her,  was  the  white  pony,  neither  harnessed 
nor  saddled,  and  following  her  about  simply  for  pur- 
poses of  entertainment. 

When  she  stopped  he  stopped,  when  she  hurried 
on  he  made  haste  to  thread  his  way  among  the 
various  vehicles  in  the  street  and  catch  up  to  her. 
Upon  arriving  in  front  of  a  green-grocer's,  he  took 
on  an  air  of  joyful  assurance,  and  approached  the 
curbstone* 


^N  MIDST  OF  LIFE  WE  ARE  IN  DEATH.      1 37 


tt 


Piggy,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  amiably;  then 
calling  for  a  handful  of  apples,  she  spread  them  in 
the  gutter  before  him. 

While  he  was  eating  them,  she  looked  across  at 
the  bank.  "  If  they  haven't  closed,  I  might  go  and 
get  some  money,"  she  i^rumbled.  "  That  girl  Chelda 
spends  it  like  water,"  and  she  hurriedly  approached 
the  brick  building. 

"  So  this  is  what  you  have  been  doing  with  my 
money,"  she  said  to  the  paying  teller  as  she  stood 
before  his  wicket  and  gazed  about  the  freshly  deco- 
rated bank. 

The  young  man  smiled  respectfully,  then,  as  he 
handed  her  a  roll  of  bills,  observed,  "  The  cashier 
asked  me  to  let  him  know  if  you  came  in.  Would  it 
be  too  much  trouble  for  you  to  step  in  his  office } " 

Without  saying  a  word  she  wulked  to  the  glass 
door  beyond,  and  rapped  briskly  on  it. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Justin  ;  then  seeing  who  it  was  he 
sprang  up.  "  Miss  Gastonguay,  I  have  been  wishing 
to  see  you." 

"  Indeed,  —  the  road  to  French  Cross  is  still  open." 

Justin's  pale  face  grew  red.  "  I  should  have  con- 
sidered it  an  honour  to  call,  but  there  are  certain 
reasons  why  I  preferred  seeing  you  here.  Will  you 
sit  down } " 

"  Thanks,  I  had  rather  stand,  I  am  in  a  hurry,  — 
is  your  head  better  ? " 


i 

i 


138 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


)> 


"  Yes,  thank  you.' 

"  A  great  mistake  to  jump  into  the  river  for  that 
beggar's  child.     Better  to  have  let  it  drown." 

"  I  scarcely  think  you  would  have  approved  of 
that,"  —  then  he  surveyed  her  earnestly.  "  What  I 
have  to  say  m^ay  take  some  time.  You  had  better  be 
seated." 

She  dropped  into  a  chair,  and,  folding  her  hands 
before  her  on  the  table,  stared  out  the  window. 

She  did  not  like  him.  She  was  annoyed  at  being 
compelled  to  sit  and  listen  to  him,  yet  Justin  was  full 
of  satisfaction,  and  there  was  even  an  expression  of 
wistfulness  about  his  thin  lips  as  his  xt  sentence 
fell  from  them. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  have  to  thank  you  for  your 
kindness  to  my  wife  the  other  day." 

"  No  kindness  at  all,"  she  said,  gruffly.  "  She  can 
come  again  sometime,  if  she  likes.  I  dare  say  it  is 
dull  at  your  house  for  her." 

"  Dull,  yes,  —  poor  child.  Miss  Gastonguay,  I  see 
you  are  impatient  to  be  gone,  and  I  will  be  brief. 
Long  ago  you  had  a  brother  —  " 

"  A  brother,  yes,  —  what  of  it } "  and  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay brought  her  eyes  to  bear  sharply  upon  him. 

Justin  was  leaning  forward  on  the  table  now.  He 
had  become  the  strict  man  of  business ;  he  had  a 
tale  to  unfold  to  her  that  she  should  hear  even 
though  he  compelled  her  to  it. 


IN  MIDST  OF  LIFE   WE  ARE  IN  DEATH.      1 39 


"  I  had  a  brother  Charles,"  she  snapped  at  him 
when  he  did  not  speak,  —  "  Chelda's  father,  now  dead." 

"I  refer  to  another  brother,"  he  said,  calmly,  "a 
younger  brother." 

Miss  Gastonguay*s  face  showed  uncontrollable 
emotion.  No  one  in  Rossignol  but  this  young  man 
would  have  dared  mention  the  name  of  this  brother 
to  her.  Years  ago  he  had  been  cast  off  by  his 
family  as  an  incorrigible  black  sheep.  It  was  not 
known  what  had  become  of  him.  His  name  had 
been  dropped,  and  even  in  gossiping  Rossignol  there 
were  many  people  whc  did  not  know  of  his  existence. 
She  tried  to  rise  and  ding  herself  from  the  room,  but 
she  found  herself  trembling  so  violently  that  she  was 
obliged  to  sit  still  to  gather  strength. 

"  Your  brother  Louis,"  pursued  Justin,  in  measured 
tones,  "named  from  the  founder  of  the  house." 

"A  villain,  —  a  scoundrel,"  muttered  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay,  flashing  him  a  furious  glance,  —  "a disgrace 
to  the  name,  a  boy  that  should  have  been  strangled 
in  his  cradle." 

"  But  never  by  the  hand  of  his  sister,"  murmured 
Justin,  with  a  strange  softening  of  his  tone,  "  his 
little  sister  Jane,  whom  he  loved." 

Miss  Gastonguay  turned  fiercely  on  him.  "  Young 
man,  what  are  you  talking  about }  What  do  you 
know  of  this  affair.?  Have  some  of  your  strict 
Puritans   been  telling  you  to   discipline  a  victim 


140 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


:;? 


M! 


many  years  your  senior,  by  tearing  open  this  old 
sore  ? " 

"No,  no,  —  Miss  Gastonguay,  hear  me  patiently. 
I  have  a  message  to  you  from  this  brother." 

*'  I  will  not  hear  it  — "  and  her  stern  face  grew 
sterner. 

Justin  sighed,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  •'  Let 
me  recapitulate,  —  you  remember  my  father,  Sylves- 
ter Mercer  —  " 

"  Open  that  window,  will  you  } "  interrupted  Miss 
Gastonguay,  "this  room  is  stifling." 

Justin  hastily  threw  up  one  of  the  glass  sashes, 
and  allowed  the  cool  river  wind  to  blow  into  the 
room.  Was  the  stoical  maiden  lady  about  to  faint } 
He  judged  not,  and  therefore  continued  his  sentence. 
"  My  father,  who  was  cashier  of  this  bank  before 
me  — 

"  And  worth  half  a  dozen  young  prigs  like  your- 
self," mumbled  Miss  Gasionguay,  as  she  mopped  her 
face  with  her  handkerchief.     "  I  liked  him  —  " 

"  I  know  you  do  not  care  for  me  nor  for  my 
mother,"  said  Justin,  firmly,  "  yet  I  also  know  that, 
honest  as  you  try  to  be,  words  are  sometimes  but 
disguises  for  your  thoughts." 

"Therefore,  when  I  say  I  hate  you,  you  know 
I  love  you,"  observed  M.ss  Gastonguay,  ironically. 
The  fresh  air  had  revived  her,  and  she  felt  mistress 
of  herself  again. 


♦♦'I    HAVE    A    MESSAGE   TO    VOU    FROM    THIS    BKOTHER.' 


J 

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Mil 

of 
my 
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tha 
in 

mc 

his 
ok 

en 
ha 

er 
mi 
ha 


II 


IN  MIDST  OF  LIFE   WE  AR^  IN  DEATH.      I4I 


Justin  smiled.  "  No,  I  know  better  than  that ; 
however,  let  me  proceed.  When  I  was  a  lad,  my 
father,  finding  that  I  did  not  care  for  study,  had  me 
enter  this  bank  where  I  could  be  trained  under  his 
supervision." 

"  You'll  never  be  as  clever  as  he  was,"  observed 
Miss  Gastonguay,  grimly. 

"  Granted,"  said  Justin,  with  a  slight  inclination 
of  his  head.  "  You  cannot  say  any  good  thing  about 
my  father  that  my  heart  will  not  echo.  I  loved  him, 
and  revere  his  memory.  You  will  perhaps  remember 
that,  beside  being  a  man  of  business,  he  was  foremost 
in  the  charitable  work  of  the  town  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  remember.  What  are  you  boring 
me  with  all  this  for  ? " 

"  Kindly  have  patience  and  >ou  will  see.  One  of 
his  invariable  habits  was  to  visit  every  Sunday  the 
old   red   prison  in  the  woods  beyond  your  house." 

Miss  Gastonguay 's  head  suddenly  became  more 
erect,  though  her  fingers  trifled  nervously  with  her 
handkerchief. 

"  I  was  often  his  companion.  Among  the  prison- 
ers I  had  many  acquaintances.  My  father  taught 
me  not  to  despise  these  men  whose  unhappy  lives 
had  flung  them  for  a  time  into  such  a  place  —  " 

"  He  was  wrong,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  angrily. 
"  Wrong  —  w  rong." 

Just  before  my  father's  death,  he  called  me  to 


i 


« 


t42 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


his  bedside,  and  told  me  that  in  leaving  the  world 
he  had  a  sacred  trust  to  impose  on  me.  I  would  in 
his  place  be  entrusted  with  the  custody,  the  loaning, 
exchange,  or  issue  of  money  for  a  certain  individual 
whom  I  might  hear  from  or  see  only  at  long  inter- 
vals. This  person  I  was  to  serve  faithfully,  without 
curiosity  or  suspicion,  except  in  the  improbable  event 
of  my  being  required  to  do  anything  that  woul^^  be 
against  my  conscience." 

"Conscience!"  ejaculated  Miss  Gastonguay. 
"You  Puritans  worship  your  consciences." 

"I  accepted  the  trust,"  said  Justin,  "and  I  have 
kept  it." 

"For  some  prison  bird,"  she  said,  dilating  her 
nostrils.  "  Your  father  always  was  soft-hearted. 
He  believed  a  kind  whisper  in  the  ear  would  reform 
the  prince  of  darkness  himself." 

*■  It  was  four  years  after  my  father's  death,"  con- 
tinued Justin,  "  before  I  saw  this  stranger  for  whom 
my  father  was  a  kind  of  agent  —  " 

"  I  dare  say,"  she  said,  sneeringly,  "  a  wonder  you 
ever  saw  him  at  all." 

"  And  then  he  reminded  me,  strangely  enough, 
of  a  man  I  had  once  seen  for  a  brief  space  of  time 
in  —  " 

"  The  old  prison,  of  course." 

"Yes." 

"  And  you  told  him  of  it,"  she  said,  tauntingly. 


W£ 


st^ 


wi 


IN  MIDST  OF  LIFE  WE  A  HE  IN  DEATH.      14^ 

"  No,  I  did  not.  The  last  time  I  saw  that  man 
was  in  California  six  weeks  ago." 

"An  ill-starred  journey.  You  had  better  have 
stayed  at  home." 

"  I  married  that  man's  daughter,  Miss  Gastonguay." 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  and  caught  her  breath 
with  a  choking  sound.  Then  she  exclaimed,  indig- 
nantly :  "  Shame  to  you  to  perpetuate  the  breed ! 
Close  that  window,  will  you.?  You  young  people 
have  your  veins  full  of  hot  blood.  We  old  ones 
grow  chilly." 

Justin  obediently  closed  it,  then,  reseating  himself, 
gazed  at  her  with  a  compassion  and  even  a  tender- 
ness that  her  abusive  words  could  neither  change 
nor  dissipate. 

"Yesterday,  when  I  received  that  blow  in  the 
river,"  and  he  lightly  touched  his  plastered  forehead, 
"  I  seemed  to  see  in  a  flash  the  possibilities  of  the 
future  in  case  of  my  death.  My  young  wife  fright- 
ened and  alone  —  " 

"Where  is  her  father  ?" 

"  He  said  that  he  was  going  to  Australia ;  and  I 
made  up  my  mind  yesterday  to  speak  to  you, — to 
tell  you  that,  spoiled  child  as  she  may  appear,  she 
is  a  worthy  daughter  of  your  house." 

"What  kind  of  a  life  is  her  father  leading 
now  ? " 

Justin  took  off  his  glasses  and  passed  his  handker* 


144 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


chief  over  his  troubled  eyes.  "  I  do  not  know,  but  1 
am  sure  he  solemnly  promised  my  father  that  after 
his  escapade  here  it  would  be  an  honest  one.  Know- 
ing his  family's  wealth,  I  have  thought  that  possibly 
he  might  be  receiving  money  from  them  —  " 

"  There  is  not  a  Gastonguay  that  would  throw  him 
a  dime  if  he  were  starving,"  she  said,  with  disdain. 

"  But  his  daughter,"  said  Justin,  and  his  whole 
face  glowed  with  such  sincerity  of  love  that  hie  com- 
panion turned  her  head  away,  "  the  innocent,  beautiful 
girl  whom  I  married  in  haste,  partly  because  my 
whole  soul  was  bound  up  in  her,  and  partly  because 
I  wished  to  snatch  her  while  still  young  and  docile 
from  an  environment  that  might  at  some  future  day 
mean  —  " 

"  Disgrace,"  supplied  Miss  Gastonguay,  when  he 
hesitated,  "  bald,  black,  nasty  disgrace  that  you  wish 
now  to  attach  to  my  unspotted  name,  — or,"  she  went 
on,  irrelevantly,  "  is  it  the  money  you  are  after }  We 
rich  people  can  see  snares  and  pitfalls  where  you 
poor  ones  would  not  suspect  them.  We  are  so 
beset  and  encompassed  by  sticky  fingers  that  would 
make  some  of  our  gold  pieces  adhere  to  them  that 
we  walk  with  garments  drawn  gingerly  aside.  What 
looks  to  you  a  very  pretty  and  flattering  appeal  from 
youth  to  old  age,  may  to  me  look  no  better  than  one 
of  the  cunningly  adjusted  gins  your  Bible  speaks  of. 
I  have  the  honour  to  wish  you  good  afternoon,  young 


IN  MIDST  OF  LIFE  WE  ARE  IN  DEATH.      I45 

man/'  and  she  rose  from  her  seat  and  made  him  a 
low,  old-fashioned  courtesy. 

Justin  rose  too,  and  respectfully  prepared  to  open 
the  door  for  her.  "  May  God  bless  you,  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay.  My  heart  is  lighter  now  that  I  have  com- 
mitted my  darling's  interests  to  you,  —  you  know  that 
I  am  not  thinking  solely  of  material  interests.  If  I 
am  cut  off  suddenly  you  will  see  that  a  woman's  love 
2md  tenderness  are  not  wanting.  And  I  have  a  token 
for  you  from  that  brother.  I  will  not  offer  it 
to  you  now,  but  when  you  are  ready  to  receive  it, 
I  have  it  here  —  "  and  he  pointed  toward  a  safe  in  a 
corner. 

Miss  Gastonguay  rushed  by  him  and  out  of  the 
bank  like  a  flash,  so  that  even  the  clerks  who  were 
used  to  her  odd  ways  followed  her  with  a  smile. 

An  hour  later,  when  Justin  had  his  key  in  the  lock 
of  the  outer  door,  she  came  back.  Her  face  was 
calm  now,  and  she  spoke  politely.  "Give  me  that 
token,  or  whatever  it  is.  No,  I  will  not  go  in  your 
office.  Go  get  it,  I  will  wait  here,"  and  she  stepped 
inside  the  door. 

Justin  looking  over  his  shoulder,  to  keep  a  watch- 
ful eye  on  the  entrance  door,  hastened  to  his  room, 
unlocked  his  safe,  withdrew  a  small  parcel  and  came 
back. 

Miss  Gastonguay  tore  off  the  folds  of  tissue- 
paper.    There  was  nothing  but  a  little  shoe  inside,  — 


146 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


2L  little  shoe  of  white  velvet  ornamented  with  gilt 
buttons. 

"Our  mother  was  a  proud  woman,"  she  said, 
calmly,  as  she  surveyed  it.  "Louis  and  I  were 
shod  in  velvet,  while  our  playmates  had  to  be 
content  with  leather.  We  always  played  together," 
she  went  on,  holding  up  the  shoe,  and  speaking  in 
a  voice  of  unnatural  calm.  "He  was  a  handsome 
little  lad.  Though  I  was  much  older,  he  used 
to  put  his  arm  around  my  neck  and  call  me  his 
little  Jane." 

Justin  silently  pointed  to  the  tiny  sole.  On  it  was 
written  in  a  faltering  hand,  "Little  Jane's  shoe, — 
carried  over  half  the  world  by  her  unworthy 
Louis." 

"  Oh,  my  God,"  she  said,  suddenly.  "  I  loved  him 
so  ! "  and  staggering  against  the  wall  she  burst  into 
violent  and  painful  weeping.  "  My  poor  lost  brother 
—  and  I  would  have  died  for  him —  Go  away, 
young  man,  don't  look  at  me  in  my  misery." 

Justin's  own  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  In  distressed 
sympathy  he  went  for  a  glass  of  water  that  she 
would  not  drink.  "Go  away,  go  away,"  she  said, 
waving  her  hands  at  him,  so  that  at  last  he  was 
obliged  to  take  his  station  on  the  street  where 
the  white  pony  stood  gazing  at  him  in  reproachful 
anxiety. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Miss  Gastonguay  came 


IN  MIDST  OF  LIFE  WE  ARE  IN  DEATH.      1 47 

out.  Her  face  was  more  stern  than  usual,  but  bore 
no  traces  of  tears,  and  without  a  word  to  him,  and 
looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  she  took 
the  road  to  French  Cross,  followed  by  the  pony  with 
sympathetically  drooping  head. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


IT   IS   ALL  TRUE. 


After  Miss  Gastonguay  left  Justin,  his  long  legs 
carried  him  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  his  own  home, 
over  the  sidewalks,  steaming  in  the  hot  March  sun, 
and  cooling  again  in  the  wind. 

There  she  was,  waiting  for  him  by  the  letter-box 
on  the  corner,  —  the  rounded  girlish  figure,  whose 
sight  always  made  his  blood  quicken  in  his  veins. 
His  eye  ran  approvingly  over  her  trim  green  suit, 
and  the  round  hat  set  so  daintily  on  the  fair  head, 
and  with  a  few  quick  strides  he  was  beside  her. 

"I  have  kept  you  waiting,  Derrice.  I  haa  an 
important  interview." 

"  You  need  not  apologise.  I  knew  that  you  would 
have  come  sooner  if  you  could." 

He  gave  her  so  eloquent  a  glance  that  the  blood 
rushed  to  her  face,  yet  she  did  not  shyly  avert  her 
blushes  from  him  as  she  once  would  have  done,  but 
returned  his  look  by  one  full  of  a  passionate  and 
steady  devotion. 

He  did  not  speak  again  until  they  were  walking 

143 


JT  IS  ALL    TRUE. 


149 


down  the  steep  hill  toward  the  town,  when  he  asked 
her,  "  Which  way  shall  we  go  ? " 

"  Not  by  the  river,"  and  she  shivered,  "  out  toward 
the  prison." 

It  was  his  turn  to  shiver  now;  however,  he 
made  no  protest,  and  they  were  soon  well  on  the 
way  toward  French  Cross. 

"I  forgot,"  she  said,  suddenly  pausing,  "one  can 
still  catch  glimpses  of  the  river  from  here,  and  I  can 
not  bear  it  to-day.  Can  we  not  strike  out  toward 
the  blueberry  barrens  ? " 

"  Certainly,  but  the  mud." 

"I  have  rubbers,"  and  she  held  out  one  foot. 
They  plunged  into  a  country  road  and  walked 
steadily  on.  Both  were  accomplished  pedestrians, 
and  having  found  out  that  for  some  unknown  reason 
her  husband  had  rather  walk  than  drive,  Derrice  usu- 
ally expressed  a  preference  for  tae  former  exercise. 

For  some  distance  she  walked  a  little  ahead  of 
him,  and,  in  order  to  escape  the  slush  of  the  road, 
traversed  the  length  of  an  icy  ridge,  her  hands  in 
her  jacket  pockets,  her  body  carefully  balanced. 
When  she  paused  to  allow  a  muddy  wagon  to  pass, 
he  caught  up  to  her. 

"  Derrice,"  he  said,  "  let  us  go  back.  You  are  as 
pale  as  a  ghost." 

No,  no,  —  it  is  only  that  I  cannot  help  thinking 


« 


k 


^bout  yesterday. 


ISO 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  My  darling,  suppose  I  had  been  drowned." 

"  Drowned  —  "  and  she  stopped  and  turned  to  him 
in  blank  horror.  Then  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  chill, 
blue  sky  above  them.  A  new  world  was  opening  on 
her.  She  might  have  been  left  alone  on  its  thresh- 
old, left  alone  to  struggle  with  the  problems  of  life 
and  death,  and  human  mysteries  with  which  she  had 
been  confronted  in  her  swift  transition  from  girlhood 
to  womanhood. 

She  could  not  answer  him,  and  with  a  dumb  and 
mournful  gesture  continued  her  walk. 

"  Death  is  to  a  Christian  only  the  closing  of  the 
eyes,"  he  went  on,  softly,  "a  waking  up  in  an 
atmosphere  infinitely  more  happy  than  any  earthly 


one. 


She 


She  brushed  away  the  tears  from  her  eyes, 
did  not  understi ;  J  him. 

"  My  body  would  have  been  in  the  river,  my  soul 
with  God." 

"  And  I,  —  what  should  I  have  done  ? "  she  asked, 
wildly. 

"Derrice,  do  you  know  what  I  resolved  yester- 
day } " 

"  No,  Justin." 

"That,  God  helping  me,  I  would  leave  no  stone 
unturned  to  secure  your  soul's  salvation." 

"  My  soul's  salvation,  —  am  I  then  so  wicked .? " 

"No,   no,  not  wicked,  but  almost   spotless  and 


IT  IS  ALL    TRUE. 


151 


innocent  to  human  eyes,  yet  all  —  all  are  guUty  in 
the  eye  of  infinite  holiness." 

"If  I  had  been  drowned  in  Southern  California, 
where  would  my  soul  have  been  ? " 

A  mute  agony  took  possession  of  him,  and  in  spite 
of  the  icy  wind  great  beads  of  perspiration  stood  on 
his  forehead.  « I  do  not  wish  to  pain  you,"  she  said, 
earnestly,  "  but  I  want  to  know.  Am  I  to  go  to  one 
place  and  you  to  another } " 

After  a  time  he  found  his  voice.  "  Day  and  night 
I  have  no  peace.  Walking  the  street,  sitting  at 
home,  in  the  midst  of  my  business,  my  heart  goes  up 
to  God,  —  save  my  darling  from  the  lions." 

"  Then  your  religion  is  stronger  than  your  love } " 

It  was.  His  Puritanism  was  ingrained  with  his 
very  being.  "  My  love  is  stronger  on  account  of  my 
religion,"  he  said,  warmly.  "Can  you  not  under- 
stand that  reverence  for  God  and  a  pure  system  of 
faith  heighten  and  do  not  lessen  one's  moral  obliga- 
tion toward  one's  fellow  creatures  ? " 

"It  has  a  reasonable  sound,"  she  said,  wistfully, 
"  but  I  do  not  understand  fully  about  these  things. 
Will  you  teach  me } " 

There  was  a  flash  of  worshipful  affection  in  the 
granite-coloured  eyes  behind  his  glasses.  He  en- 
wrapped her  in  one  ardent  look,  then,  in  subdued, 
glad  eagerness,  he  launched  himself  on  an  explana- 
tion of  the  various  tenets  of  his  faith, 


!*( 


152 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Not  a  word  was  lost  on  her.  In  a  silence  varied 
only  by  a  brief  occasional  question,  she  walked 
slowly  by  his  side  over  the  lonely  road,  until  finally 
they  turned  and  retraced  their  steps  toward  the 
town. 

He  escorted  her  to  his  own  door,  then  he  left  her, 
and  she  thoughtfully  went  in,  and  telling  Mrs.  Prym- 
mer  that  her  son  had  gone  to  the  hotel  to  meet  some 
mill  official,  she  abstractedly  partook  of  dainties  urged 
on  her  by  her  staunch  friend  and  admirer.  Captain 
White. 

"Will  you  please  tell  me  when  you  are  going  to 
have  your  prayers  this  evening.?"  she  said  to  him 
aftCx-  supper. 

He  gave  her  a  brief  "Certainly,"  then,  sitting 
down  opposite  Mrs.  Prymmer,  he  devoted  himself  to 
summing  up  accounts  in  a  note-book. 

At  ten  o'clock  he  ran  up-stairs  and  knocked  at 
Derrice's  door. 

"  Coming,"  she  replied,  and  made  haste  to  descend 
with  him. 

She  had  not  before  been  present  at  this  ceremony 
of  family  prayers,  and  to  her  unaccustomed  eyes 
Mrs.  Prymmer,  Captain  White,  and  the  maid  ser- 
vant Mary  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  a  kind  of  contra- 
dance,  in  which  they  walked  to  and  fro,  seizing 
certain  books  and  certain  chairs,  and  arranging  them 
qarefully  in  certain  places. 


IT  IS  ALL    TRUE. 


153 


"  Have  some  books,"  said  Captain  White,  handing 
her  two,  as  she  sat  down  in  the  place  indicated  by 
Mrs.  Prymmer. 

The  first  one  given  her  was  a  hymn-book,  and 
Mrs.  Prymmer,  selecting  a  trifling  and  unimportant 
jingle  of  religious  rhymes,  began  in  her  hard  voice, 
and  with  only  slight  assistance  from  Mary  and  Cap- 
tain White,  to  utter  a  succession  of  unmelodious 
sounds.  The  hymn  was  not  a  success,  and  Derrice 
was  glad  when  it  was  over. 

The  Scripture  reading  was  announced  from  Jere- 
miah. Derrice,  having  never  before  heard  of  the 
weeping  prophet,  gazed  helplessly  at  her  mother-in- 
law,  whose  eyes  were  glued  to  the  ponderous  family 
Bible  on  the  table  before  her. 

Captain  White  politely  found  her  place,  but  the 
prophecy  was  unintelligible  to  Derrice,  and  she  flut- 
tered over  the  leaves  of  her  Bible  until  she  came  to 
the  Song  of  Solomon.  Here  was  something  inter- 
esting, and  in  a  few  minutes  she  was  utterly  obliv- 
ious of  her  surroundings  until  aroused  by  a  gentle 
tug  at  her  dress  from  Captain  White.  They  were 
all  on  their  knees  but  herself.  She  hastily  slipped 
down  and  listened  to  the  words  pouring  from  Mrs. 
Prymmer's  florescent  lips. 

The  good  woman  was  praying  for  a  brace  of  repro- 
bates, —  two  beings  ordained  to  everlasting  and 
eternal  punishment  unless  they  indulged  in  a  speedy 


% 
I 


MiMi 


J 


154 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


and  effectual  repentance.  Derrice,  in  mild  wonder, 
followed  her,  until  the  startling  discovery  dawned 
upon  her  that  she  herself  was  one  of  the  subjects  of 
the  petition.  She  was  the  stiff-necked  sinner,  the 
scorner  of  grace,  the  vessel  doomed  to  everlasting 
wrath.  And  was  it  Captain  White  who  was  to  go 
down  to  destruction  with  her.?  She  cast  a  glance 
toward  him,  and  was  answered  by  a  reassuring  nod. 

"  She  don't  often  get  the  chance  to  hold  forth," 
he  whispered,  behind  his  uplifted  hand.  "Justin 
usually  takes  charge." 

Derrice  felt  herself  growing  angry.  How  differ- 
ent was  the  mother  from  the  son  !  She  indignantly 
got  off  her  knees  and  sat  in  her  chair,  and  when  the 
others  rose  she  confronted  Mrs.  Prymmer  with  a 
stormy  brow.  Only  waiting  until  Mary  left  the 
room  she  exclaimed,  "You  were  talking  about  me 
just  now  —  " 

"  About  your  immortal  soul,"  said  Mrs.  Prymmer, 
pursing  up  her  lips. 

"  Don't  you  do  it  again,"  said  Derrice,  wrathfully. 
*'  I  will  not  be  called  by  those  names.  You  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  yourself,"  and  she  swept  out  of  the 
room. 

"  Serves  you  right,  Hippolyta,"  remarked  Captain 
White.     "  You  brought  it  on  yourself." 

Mrs.  Prymmer's  countenance  expressed  unmiti- 
gated indignation. 


IT   IS  ALL    TRUE. 


155 


"  Hadn't  you  better  give  up  that  style  of  pray- 
ing ? "  he  inquired.  "  It's  a  trifle  old-fashioned. 
They  don't  herd  sinners  into  the  kingdom  that  way 
now,  and  besides,  see  what  poor  success  you've  had 
with  me.  Twenty  years  you've  been  praying  at  me, 
and  I  drink,  and  dance,  and  fight  just  the  same  as 
ever.  'Pon  my  word,  it  makes  me  want  to  act  worse 
to  listen  to  you." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  was  not  convinced.  She  began 
putting  out  the  lights  for  the  night,  thinking  thereby 
to  force  her  cousin  to  beat  a  retreat  into  the  hall. 

"Quit  that,"  he  ejaculated.  "Am  I  a  twenty- 
dollar-a-week  boarder  to  have  the  gas  turned  off  in 
my  face  ? " 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  rile  you,  Micah,"  she  said, 
immediately  lighting  up  again. 

"  All  right,  Hippolyta,  —  I'll  not  be  long.  I  just 
want  to  discuss  this  reprobate  business.  You've 
got  to  stop  calling  me  names.  If  you  can't  pray 
like  a  lad;  you  can  hold  your  tongue." 

"Micah,"  she  stammered,  "it  is  for  your  soul's 
ood." 

"  Soul  be  fiddlesticked !  Can  you  doctor  a  sick 
soul  when  you  send  a  body's  temper  flying  all  over 
the  place.!*" 

"I  —  I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  you  find  out.  Sister  Negus  doesn't  pvay 
^hat  way,  nor  Sister  Jones,  nor  Sister  James,  nor  any 


xmmn*"^  -^tMammmDimilik 


156 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Other  sisters  that  I  can  hear  of.  It's  just  your 
darned  old-timed  way  of  holding  sinners  over  the 
pit  to  see  'em  squirm.     Now,  will  you  let  up  on  it  ? " 

"  Micah,  it  is  hard  to  teach  an  old  dog  new  tricks." 

"  Then  the  old  dog  can  go  lie  down  in  a  corner 
and  hold  his  tongue.  Will  he  now,  or  shall  I  go 
down  to  the  hotel  where  the  waiters  won't  be 
running  at  me  with  hymn-books  and  Bibles  ? " 

"Micah,  when  Justin's  away  I'll  just  read  the 
Scriptures  and  not  pray." 

"  All  right,  peony  face,  I'll  stay,"  and,  clapping 
her  heartily  on  the  shoulder,  he  took  his  hat  and 
went  for  a  stroll  through  the  town  before  going  to 
bfid. 

Derrice  went  into  her  husband's  room,  and,  taking 
his  Bible  from  the  stand  by  his  bed,  carried  it  up- 
stairs. 

When  he  came  in  a  few  minutes  later  he  found 
her  sitting  by  a  table  in  her  sitting-room,  deep  in  the 
story  of  the  creation. 

"  Who  wrote  all  this  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  up. 

It  seemed  almost  incredible  to  the  young  man  that 
she  should  not  be  professing  an  ignorance  she  did 
not  possess,  yet  he  knew  that  she  was  honest.  The 
Bibb  had  not  entered  as  a  factor  into  her  wandering 
life.  He  was  a  product  of  religious  elements,  she 
of  worldly  ones.  In  her  training  religious  obligations 
had  been  ignored.     She  was  a  sweet  moral  blossom 


IT  IS  ALL    TRUE. 


157 


only;  it  rested  with  him  to  add  the  fragrance  of 
religion  to  her  other  attractions. 

"  Shall  I  read  to  you,  dolly  ? "  he  said,  in  quiet 
delight ;  and,  taking  the  book  from  her,  he  explained 
its  source  and  inspiration,  and  then  plunged  into  the 
recital  of  God's  early  dealings  with  men. 

He  read  on  and  on,  until  he  had  finished  Genesis, 
his  wife  meanwhile  making  no  comment,  but  listen- 
ing with  a  flushed  and  eager  interest. 

He  paused  when  he  reached  Exodus,  but  a  gesture 
from  her  urged  him  on.  At  last  she  took  the  book 
from  him.  "  You  are  getting  hoarse,  I  will  read  to 
you." 

It  seemed  to  Justin  that  he  would  never  grow 
weary.  The  exquisite  glow  of  happiness  that  per- 
vaded him  would  keep  him  awake  till  all  hours  of  the 
night,  yet  after  a  time  he  felt  himself  flagging  ;  and, 
seeing  that  she  was  unwilling  to  go  to  bed,  he  slipped 
to  the  sofa  for  a  brief  nap. 

After  what  seemed  to  him  a  few  minutes,  he 
opened  his  eyes.  But  the  night  was  over.  Day- 
light was  creeping  into  the  room  ;  and  there  at  the 
table  still  sat  Derrice,  her  head  dropped  on  her  arms, 
the  book  pushed  from  her,  and  the  gas  burning  in  a 
sickly  glare  above. 

He  sprang  up  and  shook  from  him  the  rug  she  had 
carefully  tucked  about  him.  She  was  asleep,  and 
her  hands  were  cold.     The  fire  had  long  ago  died 


i-„.*;"-'a.it-t.ii:-.. 


158 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


out,  and  the  room  was  chilly.  She  had  not  been 
able  to  tear  herself  from  the  book,  whose  pages  were 
full  of  such  entrancing  novelty.  It  was  open  at  the 
account  of  the  crucifixion.  The  thin  leaves  were 
blistered  and  her  cheeks  were  tear-stained.  Stum- 
bling over  the  law  and  the  prophets,  she  had  proba- 
bly turned  to  the  New  Testament  for  clearer  reading. 
Perhaps,  too,  she  wished  to  see  for  herself  whether 
the  prophesied  One  had  really  come,  and  what  was 
the  manner  of  his  coming. 

His  own  eyes  grew  moist.  He  softly  dropped  the 
rug  over  her  shoulders,  and  set  himself  to  the  task 
of  rebuilding  the  fire.  Intense  gratitude  and  thank- 
fulness and  such  a  flood  of  tender  emotion  over- 
spread him  that  he  could  scarcely  control  himself. 
When  a  blaze  sprang  up  from  the  wood,  he  rose  and 
hurriedly  paced  the  room.  His  ardent  looks,  Hke 
rays  from  burning  glass,  played  over  the  head  of  the 
sleeping  girl,  and  at  last  she  stirred  with  an  uneasy 
mention  of  his  own  name. 

He  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant,  soothing  her  and 
'  issing  the  heavy,  swollen  eyelids,  but  she  seemed 
only  partly  aware  of  his  presence,  and  writhed  in  his 
arms  as  if  in  bodily  pain. 

"  Oh,  it  was  so  horrible,  here  alone  in  the  night ! 
Why  did  they  kill  Him  ?     He  was  so  holy  !  " 

Justin  gave  her  only  the  mute  consolation  of  his 
presence.     What  words  of  his  could  soften  the  old, 


n  IS  ALL    TRUE. 


159 


old  tragedy  of  the  cross,  —  so  familiar  a  story  to  him, 
so  startling  and  awful  an  occurrence  to  her  ?  Alone 
in  the  midnight  hours  she  had  read  the  account  of 
eye-witnesses,  and  their  words  had  .ntered  like  iron 
into  her  sensitive  soul. 

« I  heard  something  of  it  in  a  church  once,"  she 
said,  with  closed  eyes,  "  but  I  did  not  dream  it  was 
like  that.  Oh,  how  wicked  they  were!  I  would 
have  fought  for  Him  had  I  been  there." 

«  His  kingdom  was  not  by  the  sword,  my  darling." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  tired,"  she  said,  wearily,  "  so  broken- 
hearted !  " 

"  But  you  believe  it  t "  said  Justin,  in  a  tremblmg 

voice.     "  It  appeals  to  you  as  the  truth  > " 

"  Oh,   yes,   yes,   that  is   truth.     But  they  killed 

Him." 

"  He  rose  again,  my  darling.     Did  you  reaa  be- 

yond  the  crucifixion  ? " 

«*  No,  no." 

He  reached  past  her  for  the  Bible ;  and,  in  a 
solemn  ecstasy,  reverently  unfolded  to  her  the  mar- 
vellously  sweet  and  beautiful  occurrences  of  the  first 
day  of  the  week  so  long  ago. 

Her  distress  left  her  little  by  little,  and  when  he 
concluded  with  the  words,  "  And  they  were  continu- 
ally in  the  temple  praising  and  blessing  God,"  she 
started  up.  "Now  I  understand.  It  was  all 
planned.     What   those  men   called  prophets  spoke 


i6o 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


was  all  true.  But,  Justin,  why  have  I  never  heard 
before  ?  It  is  so  wonderful,  so  astonishing !  My 
father  must  have  read  this  book,  —  he  never  told 


me. 


i> 


Justin  was  silent.  This  book  was  a  sealed  mystery 
to  her  father.  He  did  not  care  to  know  what  was 
m  It. 

"  Derrice,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  v/hen  I  married  you 
I  knew  that  I  could  not  keep  you  wholly  to  myself. 
There  arc  people  who  will  tell  you  to  beware  of  this 
book,  that  its  teachings  are  narrow  and  hard  to  obey, 
that  it  is  the  work  of  men's  hands,  but  you,  —  you 
see  its  divine  origin.  Now  you  are  armed,  I  do  not 
fear  for  you." 

"  I  believe  that  there  was  never  a  man  like  this 
man,"  she  said,  softly,  "  I  never  heard  of  any  one 
like  Him  ;  not  even  you,  dear,  dear  Justin,  though  you 
are  so  good." 

In  unspeakable  happiness  he  scrutinised  her  sud- 
denly calm  face,  then  murmured,  "  You  love  Him, 
you  will  serve  Him.?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  and  I  will  not  believe  anything  against 
Him ;  you  will  teach  me  more  things,  Justin.  Will 
you  tell  me  why  some  of  those  good  people  were  so 
bad  ? " 

"  Ah,  the  deficiencies  of  the  saints,"  he  muttered. 
"  Discrepancy  most  puzzling  to  human  minds.  Yes, 
I  will  teach  you,  little  one,  and  you,  too,  will  teach 


It  is  ALL    TRUE. 


16 1 


me  many  things.  I  am  not  the  perfect  being  you 
think  me.  I,  too,  wish  to  improve,  to  become  more 
compassionate,  more  tender,  more  like  our  Great 
Pattern.  But  what  a  load  is  off  my  heart.  Your 
feet  are  on  the  everlasting  rock,  my  Master  will  be 
your  Master." 

"  Is  this  your  rock } "  she  asked,  laying  her  hand 
on  the  Bible. 

"  Yes,  —  the  rock  of  our  forefathers,  the  founda- 
tion on  which  the  prosperity  of  New  England  is 
built,  the  rock  scorned  by  unbelievers." 

"  It  is  a  good  rock,"  she  said,  seriously.  "  I  have 
heard  of  the  forefathers  of  New  England.  I  have 
married  one  of  their  sons.     I  choose  his  faith." 

Justin,  overcome  and  subdued  by  the  unutterable 
joy  that  had  come  upon  him,  rushed  to  his  own  room. 
He  did  not  wish  to  break  down  before  her.  Later, 
he  went  down-stairs,  and  carried  to  the  morning  de- 
votions, through  the  breakfast  hour,  and  to  his  place 
of  business,  a  face  that  was  absolutely  radiant.  He 
was  walking  on  air.  A  holy  calm  brooded  over  him, 
and  in  his  manner  was  such  an  exquisite  and  gentle 
sympathy  that  even  those  men  who  had  the  briefest 
business  transactions  with  him  went  away  with  a 
feeling  of  refreshment,  and  a  frequently  expressed 
opinion  that  young  Mercer  was  growing  more  like 
his  father  every  day. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


A   DINNER-PARTY. 


A  WEEK  later  Miss  Gastonguay  was  giving  a  din- 
ner-party. She  had  begged  the  favour  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Mercer's  company,  and  Derrice  at  the  present 
moment  was  standing  before  her  husband's  ward- 
robe. 

"  Don't  you  have  an  evening  suit,  Justin  ? " 

«  No,  little  girl." 

«  You  must  get  one,"  and  she  surveyed  his  light 
trousers  and  black  frock  coat. 

Do  I  look  badly .? "  he  asked,  in  some  anxiety. 

■  No,  you  are  very  manly  and  good-looking,  and 
your  feet  are  well-shaped,  though  the  soles  of  your 
boots  are  a  trifle  thick,  but  I  shall  have  to  change 
my  gown." 

"That  overpowering  creation,"  and  he  stared  ad- 
miringly at  her  cream  satin  dress,  —  a  triumph  of 
som.e  foreign  dressmaker's  art. 

"  Yes  ;  we  are  too  strong  a  contrast.  I  shall  not 
be  long." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  give  you  this  trouble,  Derrice." 

i6a 


(( 


ti 


' 


A  DINNER  PARTY. 


1^3 


; 


is    prayer-meeting 


"It  is  not  a  trouble.  I  am  satisfied  since  you 
have  seen  how  grand  I  am,"  and  laughing  gaily,  she 
caught  up  her  train  and  ran  away  from  him. 

Justin  in  the  utmost  satisfaction  descended  to  the 
hall  and  put  on  his  overcoat.  Derrice  was  becoming 
more  and  more  in  love  with  him  every  day.  He 
certainly  was  a  very  happy  man,  and  in  beatific 
silence  he  gazed  at  his  mother,  who  was  standing  in 
the  dining-room  doorway,  divided  between  gratifica- 
tion at  his  invitation  to  French  Cross  and  annoyance 
that  she  should  not  be  included  in  it. 

"I     suppose   you    know   this 
night,"  she  said. 
"Yes,  mother." 
"You  can't  go  to  it." 
Why  not.?" 

Why,  you  are  going  to  a  party." 
I  can  leave  the  party." 
"Will  she  go.?"  and  Mrs.  Prymmer  designated 
Derrice,   who  was  coming  down-stairs. 
"I  think  not." 

"Well,  I'll  see  you  there,"  and  she  went  back  to 
her  well-spread  table,  where  Captain  White  was  riot- 
ing among  supper  enough  for  a  dozen  men. 

"  Has  the  carriage  come .? "  asked  Derrice,  when 
her  husband,  after  running  his  eye  approvingly  over 
her  ruffled  muslin  gown,  laid  his  fingers  on  the  door- 
knob. 


<( 


« 


u 


164 


DEPtCIEi^T  SAINTS. 


He  blushed  slightly.  "I  did  not  order  one.  I 
thought  perhaps  you  would  not  mind  taking  a  car." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  with  a  pretty,  con- 
fiding gesture,  and  said,  as  they  passed  out  the 
doorway,  "You  have  some  reason  for  wishing  to 
economise." 

He  reluctantly  admitted  that  he  had. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  whispered. 

He  hesitated.     "  You  will  be  sure  to  learn  of  it." 

"  I  wish  you  to  tell  me." 

She  was  sweet  and  womanly,  yet  insistent.  How 
she  was  developing,  this  young  wite  of  his,  and  press- 
ing her  little  hand  closer  to  his  heart,  he  said. 
"There  are  some  debts  hanging  over  me." 

"  Whose  debts  > " 

"  My  late  stepfather's,  —  Zebedee  Prymmer.  He 
was  a  lawyer  here,  who  made  a  failure  of  the  end  of 
his  life." 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

"  He  ran  away,"  said  Justin,  as  hurriedly  as  if  the 
words  scorched  his  lips.  "He  invested  trust  money 
in  speculations  of  his  own  and  lost.  He  would  have 
been  prosecuted  had  he  remained." 

"  And  you  are  trying  to  return  this  money  to  peo- 
ple who  gave  it  to  him } " 

"  To  their  heirs." 

"  And  he  was  only  your  stepfather  ? 

"  My  mother's  husband." 


>> 


A   DINNER-PARTY. 


165 


"He  was  a  villain,"  said  Derrice,  with  animation. 

"  A  semi-villain.     He  hoped  to  return  the  money." 

"That  is  villainy." 

"  Yes,  of  a  certain  kind." 

"Some  of  those  people  in  the  Bible  were  also 
villains.  Jacob  was  a  sneak,  David  was  a  murderer, 
and  Solomon  ought  to  have  been  shut  up  in  prison." 

Her  tone  was  severe,  and  Justin  forbore  to  answer 
her. 

"  Yet  God  loved  them,"  she  went  on,  reverently. 
"Justin,  how  wicked  can  we  be,  and  yet  escape  con- 
sequences } " 

The  wind  was  bitterly  cold,  and  he  paused  to  wrap 
her  cloak  more  closely  about  her  before  answering. 
"We  must  not  consider  that  question.  One  can 
love  and  serve  God,  fall  into  sin,  and  repent.  Our 
finite  minds  cannot  take  in  the  depths  of  his  com- 
passion." • 

Did  your  stepfather  repent  > " 

It  is  not  for  me  to  judge  him,  but  if  he  did,  we 
received  no  word  of  it.  His  attitude  was  that  of  an 
injured  man,  and  when  he  died,  after  a  few  years  of 
exile,  he  left  us  his  body  as  a  precious  legacy.  We 
had  him  brought  home  and  buried,  and  I  hope  his 
soul  is  with  God." 

"  Curious,"  said  the  girl,  under  her  breath.  "Jus- 
tin, are  we  all  links  in  a  chain  .?  I  must  walk  to-night 
to  help  pay  the  debts  of  a  man  I  never  saw." 


« 


(( 


i66 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  Ycu  shall  not  walk  if  you  had  rather  drive." 

"  Hush,  my  husband,  and  put  up  your  hand  to  stop 
that  car." 

Not  many  minutes  later  they  were  walking  briskly 
up  the  avenue  leading  to  French  Cross.  The  old 
chateau  was  brilliantly  lighted.  Miss  Gastonguay 
loved  to  entertain  the  people  who  pleased  her,  and 
Prosperity,  throwing  the  door  wide  open  to  Derrice 
and  her  husband,  begged  them  to  walk  up-stairs, 
where  his  brother  Tribulation  smilingly  assigned 
them  to  respective  dressing-rooms,  and  presented 
Derrice  with  a  loosely  tied  bunch  of  carnations. 

Derrice,  in  secret  amusement,  was  obliged  to  sum- 
mon her  husband  to  her  assistance,  in  arranging  a 
refractory  ruffle. 

"  Why  is  it,"  she  whispered  as  he  gropingly  tried 
to  fasten  a  pin  over  one  of  her  smooth  shoulder- 
blades,  "  that  one  sees  no  women  servants  about  this 
house } " 

"  Because,"  he  whispered  back,  "  Miss  Gastonguay 
is  a  rabid  champion  for  men.  She  says  one  hears 
nothing  but  arrangements  for  women's  homes  and 
asylums,  and  women's  work  of  all  kinds,  and  she 
believes  in  looking  out  for  some  of  the  neglected 
ones." 

Derrice  put  her  flowers  to  her  diverted  face,  and 
together  they  went  down-stairs. 

The  night  was  an  unpleasant  one,  and  XhM  sight  in 


A   DINNER-PARTY. 


167 


the  drawing-room  was  one  calculated  to  cheer  two 
people  who  had  just  struggled  through  the  mud  of 
the  avenue. 

The  long  room  was  flooded  with  soft  lamplight. 
Chelda,  sinuous  and  graceful,  was  standing  on  the 
white  fur  hearth-rug,  talking  to  a  tall,  lanky  young  man 
with  a  sallow  face,  whom  Derrice  knew  to  be  Capt. 
Sam  Vet  ;rs,  —  his  title  a  legacy  from  a  brief  time 
of  service  in  one  of  the  regiments  of  his  native  State 
of  Kentucky. 

Mr.  Huntington  was  in  a  far  corner  of  the  room, 
his  hands  crossed  behind  him,  his  resplendent  head 
shining  against  a  white  window  curtain,  as  he  talked 
to  Aurelia  Sinclair. 

Derrice  was  glad  that  she  had  not  worn  her  gleam- 
ing satin.  Neither  Mr.  Huntington  nor  Captain 
Veevers  was  in  evening  dress.  Aurelia  wore  an  old- 
fashioned,  high-necked  purple  •*  silk  shiver  "  gown. 
Miss  Chelda  one  of  figured  velvet,  while  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay  had  on  a  kind  of  men's  smoking  jacket. 

"  Well,  young  people,"  she  said,  coming  forward, 
watch  in  hand,  "you  are  five  minutes  late.  A  bad 
way  to  begin  your  married  life." 

"  VVc  are  five  minutes  early,"  said  Justin,  seriously, 
but  respectfully,  as  he  drew  out  his  own  watch. 

"You  are  a  bold  kd,"  said  the  maiden  lady,  "to 
try  to  beard  a  lioness  in  her  own  den." 

"  I  appeal  to  the  rest  of  the  company,"  said  Justin. 


1 68 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Captain  Veevers  and  Mr.  Huntington  drew  out 
their  watches.  Miss  Gastonguay  wou)  J  not  believe 
them  until  she  had  had  all  the  clocks  in  the  house 
consulted.  Then  she  admitted  herself  mistaken,  and 
asked  Justin's  pardon. 

"  You  arc  one  of  those  uncomfortable  peoplr ."  she 
said,  wagging  her  head  at  him,  "that  one  always 
finds  in  the  right.  I  should  hate  to  live  with  you  — 
don't  you } "  and  ohe  wheeled  suddenly  toward 
Derrice. 

Derrice,  to  her  husband's  mingled  delight  and 
anxiety  lest  others  should  perceive  the  resemblance, 
wagged  her  light  head  in  the  same  fashion  that  ths 
old  lady  wagged  her  gn.^zled  one.  "  Ves,  but  I 
cannot  get  away  fron.  him." 

The  girl's  tone  was  so  ludicrous  that  every  one 
smiled  except  Chelda,  wh"  favoiired  her  with  a  long 
and  searching  glnnre.  Sfie  *vl«firrf  \\\  (Wmiin^t  whether 
she  loved  her  hiisb.in  I  She  c</u//|  i/of  tell.  Justin 
was  impassive,  and  Derrice  was  conveutl«>/i-illy  girlish. 
She  would  laavit  the  i\Umi\on  open  for  future  con- 
sidcialion 

"  Come,  let's  go  tr  dinner,"  said  Miss  (jastonguay. 
"  Tiiere  is  prt»ft|mfity  swaying  his  head  like  a  Chinese 
idol,  nlve  me  your  arm,  ji'il  i  Mercer.  We  will 
jirchiKil  we  are  royalties  and  go  ahead.  The  others 
may  foU.»w  " 

Justin   was  not   comfortttbli  during  the  dinner, 


A   DINNER-PARTY. 


169 


although  he  went  throi  gh  it  with  a  composed  face. 
His  life  hitherto  had  been  so  quiet,  his  wants  so 
simple,  that  this  elaborately  served  meal  made  him 
impatient,  almost  irritated.  He  begrudged  the 
length  of  time  spent  at  the  table,  and  inwardly  dis- 
approved of  the  amount  of  money  represented  by 
the  hand-painted  china,  the  gold  and  silver  dinner 
service,  and  yet,  when  he  glanced  at  his  wife's  happy 
face,  he  became  calm. 

"  Some  men  would  spoil  her,"  said  Miss  Gaston- 
guay,  in  an  undertone,  "  you  will  discipline  her." 

Justin  did  not  look  up  from  the  plate  on  which  he 
was  eating  something  out  of  season,  he  scarcely  knew 
what  it  was. 

Miss  Gastonguay  was  gnawing  a  chicken  bone 
with  her  strong,  white  teeth,  although  she  would 
have  warmly  recommended  any  one  else  who  should 
jdo  such  a  thing  to  leave  the  table. 

"  And  she  will  discipline  you,"  bhe  went  on,  in  the 
same  tone.  Then,  as  he  did  not  reply,  she  be- 
came impatient  with  the  bone,  and,  dropping  it 
on  her  plate,  called  for  a  fresh  napkin  to  wipe 
her  fingers. 

«'  She  looks  like  a  doll,"  she  continued,  after  a  time, 
"  but  if  she  is  what  you  say  she  is,  you'll  not  find  any 
doll's  blood  in  her." 

Justin  smiled.  "  She  is  brimful  of  character ;  she 
reminds  me  of  —  " 


170 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"Well?"  said  his  hostess,  picking  up  her  napkin 
and  holding  it  over  the  lower  part  of  her  face. 

"Of  you." 

She  dropped  the  napkin.  "  You  want  to  flatter 
me,  and  I  —  old  fool  —  like  to  hear  you."  In  her  in- 
terest she  raised  her  voice,  and  every  one  at  the  table 
looked  at  her  except  Chelda,  who,  with  the  briefest, 
most  surreptitious  flash  of  her  eyelids,  continued  an 
animated  flow  of  talk  addressed  to  Captain  Veevers. 

"  Nothing,  good  friends,  nothing  for  general  enter- 
tainment," said  Miss  Gastonguay,  waving  her  hand. 
"  My  voice  ran  up  because  I  thought  I  heard  Captain 
Veevers  make  a  remark,  and  I  wished  to  drown  him." 

Every  one  looked  amused  but  Derrice.  Captain 
Veevers's  taciturnity  was  a  standing  joke  in  Rossignol, 
and  it  w.:.  said  that  only  the  general-in-chief  of  an 
army,  or  the  chief  judicial  officer  of  the  nation, 
could  wring  a  whole  sentence  from  him. 

The  Southerner  subdued  the  slight  crease  that 
formed  itself  about  his  silent  lips,  then  he  again 
turned  his  sallow  face  toward  his  brilliant  neighbour. 
He  was  deliberately  and  calmly  in  love  with  her,  and 
his  chief  pleasure  in  life  was  to  hear  her  talk. 

Miss  Gastonguay  could  not  help  discussing  Der- 
rice, who  had  been  thrown  like  a  bombshell  into  her 
quiet  life.  ''  What  a  contrast  she  is  to  Chelda,"  she 
purred  in  Justin's  ^sar,  "  My  niece  is  a  woman  of 
the  world ;  your  \rS%  is  an  eniarTipAitO'i  *  iw,    Chcida 


!« 
.«i 


w 


£^ 


^  DINNER-PARTY. 


171 


is  devoted  to  me,  and  will  be  jealous  of  any  attention 
I  bestow  on  an  outsider.  I  wish  they  could  be 
friends.  I  suppose  <ve  could  not  tell  her .?  "  And  the 
wistfulness  of  an  advancing  old  age  that  would  fain 
lean  upon  youth  crept  into  her  tone. 

Justin  was  alarmed.  He  had  confided  his  secret 
to  Miss  Gastonguay  as  he  would  have  confided  it  to 
another  man.  He  had  supposed  her  strong-minded- 
ness to  be  invulnerable,  and  now  she  was  proposing 
to  unfold  this  secret  to  some  one  against  whom  he 
had  a  secret  and  unconquerable  prejudice. 

"  Most  decidedly  not,"  he  replied. 

"  You  are  a  time-seeking,  mercenary  young  man," 
said  Miss  Gastonguay,  slapping  about  on  her  plate  an 
unoffending  morsel  of  potato.  "  You  favoured  me  with 
your  great  myslery  in  order  that  I  might  remember 
your  wife  in  my  will.    I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort." 

"  Any  one  who  shirks  a  duty  is  sure  to  suffer  for 
it  sometime  or  another,"  he  said,  calmly,  "  bu  I  am 
not  afraid  of  your  forgetting  that  my  wife  has  an 
equal  claim  on  you  with  your  niece." 

"  Well,  I  shall  have  a  thorny  road  to  travel,"  said 
Miss  Gastonguay,  with  unexpected  submission. 
"  Chelda  will  rebel." 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  give  her  no  cause  to  do  so. 
My  appeal  was  made  to  you  for  protection  in  the 
event  of  my  death.  There  is  no  favour  I  "tn*  willing 
for  my  wife  to  accept  from  you  now,  beyond  a  friendly 


172 


DEFICIENT  SAh    TS. 


recognition.  You  can  understand  that  I  wish  her  to 
lead  a  quiet  life." 

"  I  like  her,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  stubbornly. 
"I  shall  do  what  I  please  for  her." 

Aurelia  Sinclair,  who  was  Justin's  left-hand  neigh- 
bour, suddenly  turned  to  him  with  some  curiosity 
painted  on  her  transparent  face,  and  warned  that 
he  was  carrying  on  a  dangerous  conversation,  he 
abruptly  addressed  a  question  to  her. 

"  Where  is  the  pudding.?"  said  Miss  Gastonguay, 
suddenly. 

The  joints  had  been  removed,  and  a  long  and 
awkward  pause  had  ensued.  Tribulation  stood  in 
the  doorway,  trying  to  hide  behind  and  restrain  his 
brother,  until  Miss  Gastonguay's  lordly,  "  Come  for- 
ward," brought  them  near  the  table. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Has  the 
cat  run  away  with  the  creams  and  the  ices.?" 

"  It's  O'Toole,  ma'am,"  said  Prosperity,  readily. 

"  Well,  what  about  him  .?  Come,  speak  out.  We 
have  no  secrets  in  this  house." 

"  He's  under  the  kitchen  stove,"  blurted  Prosper- 
ity, "and  the  pudding's  with  him,  and  we  don't 
know  what  he's  done  with  the  shapes." 

**  Did  you  ever  hear  ot  the  Mnine  h'quor  law,  my 
d«ir?"  asked  Miss  Gastonguay,  addressing  Derrice 
with  suspicious  sweet  nesi, 

»•  Niivm,"  Bolfl  the  girl. 


A  DINNER- PAkTY. 


^n 


"  Well,  it  is  a  peculiar  law.  You  know  there  are 
some  States  that  try  to  restrain  the  sale  of  intoxi- 
cants. We  don't  here.  They  are  as  free  as  water. 
My  cook  can  order  them  over  the  telephone.  Un- 
fortunately, he  has  a  weakness  for  them." 

A  suppressed  smile  went  around  the  table,  and 
Derrice  saw  that  some  sarcasm  was  intended. 

"  There's  fruit,  I  suppose,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay 
to  Prosperity  ;  "  get  us  some,  if  O'Toole  hasn't  taken 
it  under  the  stove ;  and  you  had  better  get  him  out 
and  put  him  to  bed.  Chelda,  you  go  look  after 
things,  will  you  }  " 

The  young  lady  left  her  seat,  and  as  serenely  and 
gracefully  as  if  intoxicated  cooks  were  every-day 
occurrences  made  her  way  kitchenwards. 

"  Now  what  is  the  matter  with  you } "  said  Miss 
Gastonguay,  directing  her  attention  to  Justin,  who 
had  risen,  and  was  standing  beside  her. 

"  I  am  due  at  a  prayer-meeting." 

"A  prayer-meeting!  What  did  you  accept  my 
invitation  for  if  you  couldn't  stay  ? " 

"  I  will  come  back  if  you  will  permit  me,"  he  said, 
in  a  manner  quite  courtly. 

"  Well,  go.  You  will  graciously  allow  your  wife 
to  remain  ? " 

"  Certainly  ;  we  should  not  have  come  if  she  had 
not  decided  to  do  so,"  and,  with  a  bow,  he  left  the 
room. 


<» 

0 


lU 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  What  about  you,  Mr.  Huntington  ? "  asked  Miss 
Gastonguay. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  I 
forgot  about  it  when  you  sent  me  your  note  to-day. 
However,  it  is  only  a  young  people's  meeting.  I  do 
not  need  to  go." 

There  was  a  slight  levity  in  his  tone,  and  Miss 
Gastonguay,  after  a  keen  scrutiny  of  his  flushed  face, 
turned  to  Derrice.  "  Do  you  ever  go  to  prayer- 
meetings  .-* " 

"I  was  at  one  last  evening." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  it  ? " 

"It  was  very  interesting." 

"  Come,  now,  tell  me  what  it  was  like." 

"There  was  a  large  room  under  a  church,"  said 
Derrice,  seriously,  "with  seats.  Mr.  Huntington 
was  there,"  and  she  indicated  him  as  he  sat  gazing 
with  a  softened  expression  at  her. 

"  Of  course  ;  what  next } " 

"  He  read  a  hymn  and  some  one  played  an  organ 
accompaniment  and  the  people  sang." 

" '  Hark  from  the  tombs  a  doleful  sound,*  I  sup. 
pose,  or,  *  High  o'er  my  soul  damnation's  waves  do 
roll.'  " 

"Miss  Gastonguay,"  interposed  Aurelia,  "those 
are  very  old  hymns ;  no  one  sings  them  now." 

"What  did  you  sing,^"  persisted  Miss  Gaston- 
guay. 


A   DINNER  PARTY. 


175 


"  We  sang  something  beginning  *  Jesus,  lover  of 
my  soul,'  "  murmured  Derrice. 

"  Never  mind  the  rest.  Tell  me  how  the  meeting 
impressed  you.     It  was  your  first,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  I  never  was  at  anything  of  the  kind  before. 
May  I  speak  freely  ? "  and  she  doubtfully  scanned 
her  audience. 

"Of  course,"  said  her  hostess. 

"I  am  new  to  what  is  called  religious  life.  It 
seemed  marvellous  to  me  thai  men  could  get  up  one 
after  another  —  and  even  women  —  and  talk  so 
openly  of  what  was  in  their  hearts." 

"  Cant,  —  a  great  lot  of  it,  cant  and  rubbish.  They 
would  cheat  you  the  next  day." 

"My  husband  would  not  cheat,"  said  Derrice, 
mildly. 

"  He  is  an  exception." 

"I  will  tell  you  what  I  thought,"  said  the  girl,  en- 
couraged by  Aurelia's  breathless  admiration  and  Mr. 
Huntington's  subdued  interest.  "  It  seemed  to  me 
that  they  were  out  of  themselves,  — that  their  strength 
to  reveal  their  faults  was  supernatural.  I  never  be- 
fore heard  people  say,  '  I  am  imperfect,  —  I  do  not 
lead  as  holy  a  life  as  I  might,'  and  they  were  very  full 
of  pity.     They  spoke  of  doing  more  good  to  others." 

"Words  only,  not  deeds." 

"My  husband  visits  the  poor,"  said  Derrice, 
sturdily. 


i;6 


bEFICtENT  SAWtS. 


"Well  now,  young  lady,  what  do  you  think  of 
me?  I  am  not  religious,  I  play  cards  all  day  on 
Sunday  if  I  choose.  I  do  not  believe  in  what  you 
call  revealed  religion.     What  is  to  become  of  me }  " 

"  It  would  be  hard  for  me  to  believe  anything 
against  you,"  replied  Derrice,  with  quiet  grace. 

"  But  what  will  become  of  me  when  I  die  ?  Your 
preachers  send  me  right  down,  down,  down,  —  direct. 
What  do  you  think  about  it .? " 

Derrice  silently  appealed  to  Mr.  Huntington,  but 
he  would  not  reply,  though  his  kind  smile  urged 
her  on. 

"  Where  am  I  going  ? "  pursued  Miss  Gastonguay. 

'=  How  can  I  tell  ?  " 

"  But  you  have  your  little  narrow  creed  all  made 
up.  Saints  this  way,  sinners  that.  I  am  no  saint, 
yet  I  am  not  an  out-and-out  sinner." 

Derrice  stirred  uneasily  in  her  seat,  and  earnestly 
longed  for  her  husband.  At  last  a  solution  of  the 
difficulty  occurred  to  her.  "  What  kind  of  people  do 
you  like  to  be  with  in  this  world,  Miss  Gastonguay } " 

Her  hostess  looked  around  the  table.  The  way 
of  sinners,  the  seat  of  the  scornful,  had  never  been 
hers.  These  people  about,  her  board  were  all  serious, 
thoughtful,  and  worthy  of  respect. 

"  If  you  like  good  people,"  said  Derrice,  "  then 
you  will  be  with  them  in  the  world  to  come." 

"  Child,   you    are  too    liberal,   too  generous  for 


A   DINNER-PARTY. 


177 


your  creed.  Morality  does  not  save,  —  I  have  had 
that  shrieked  in  my  ears  ever  since  I  was  bom. 
You  must  .idve  religion." 

"  Perhaps  you  have  it  and  do  not  know  it." 
*•  What  is  religion,  according  to  you } " 
"I  know  very  little.     I  have  not  learned  much 
yet.     Is  it  not  that  one  must  have  faith  in  the  Bible, 
and  believe  in  one  God  and  in  his  Son } " 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible ; 
it  was  written  by  men  like  ourselves." 

Derrice  shrank  back.  "  But  would  you  be  happy 
in  heaven,  then  ? " 

"  But  would  I  be  happy ! "  muttered  Miss  Gaston- 
guay,  "  and  this  is  the  girl  I  am  to  remember  in  my 
will,"  and  she  closed  the  conversation  and  abruptly 
turned  to  her  niece,  who  had  just  come  in,  and  was 
taking  her  place  with  an  amus<?<:l,  cynical  expression 
of  countenance. 


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-V. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


UNgUIET   HEARTS. 

Two  hours  later  Justin  returned.  "  You  will  find 
the  company  in  the  library,  sir,"  said  Prosperity,  with 
dignity,  as  he  heljed  him  off  with  his  coat. 

On  passing  through  the  music-room,  Justin  found 
Cheida  alone  there,  playing  dreamy  waltzes  with  the 
intention  of  bringing  Mr.  Huntington  to  her  side. 
She  had  made  a  mistake  in  diplomacy,  or,  rather,  had 
overlooked  a  homely  maxim,  that  circumstances 
alter  cases.  The  flashing  of  brilliant  conversational 
wit  in  the  face  of  a  vival  usually  brougat  the  clergy- 
man to  her  side,  and  anchored  him  there.  This 
evening  she  had  failed,  owing  to  Derrice,  who  seemed 
to  have  fascinated,  for  the  time,  the  man  whom  she 
considered  to  be  her  own  property. 

As  Cheida  softly  played,  she  meditated  deeply. 
But  for  Derrice  she  would  have  received  a  proposal 
of  marriage  in  the  cupola,  from  the  only  person  in 
the  universe  who  had  ever  touched  her  ccid  heart. 

Derrice  went  much  to  the  parsonage,  she  knew 
that.     She  had  found  a  congenial  spirit  in  Mrs. 

178 


UNQUIET  HEARTS. 


179 


Negur,  and  ever  since  the  day  Mr.  Huntington  had 
come  to  French  Cross  and  besought  the  interest  of 
the  ladies  there  in  his  former  friend,  Chelda  had 
found  him  more  difficult  to  manage,  more  unreliable 
and  provoking.  How  strange  it  was  that  he  clung 
so  steadily  to  the  rags  of  his  religious  life !  Would 
she  ever  be  able  to  detach  them  from  his  nervous 
grasp.?  She  must  make  new  plans.  Her  hrst 
move  must  be  to  make  a  friend  of  Derrice,  and 
she  gave  Justin  a  gracious  bow  of  welcome  as  he 
passed  her. 

He  paused  on  the  threshold  of  the  library.  This 
room  was  more  grateful  to  him  than  the  drawing- 
room,  with  its  many  lights,  and  its  gleam  and  glitter 
of  gold.  Here  the  tints  were  more  subdued,  more 
sombre,  from  the  dull  rich  colouring  of  the  tiers  of 
handsomely  bound  books. 

Aurelia  and  Captain  Veevers  were  deep  in  a  game 
of  draughts  in  a  corner  where  Chelda  had  arranged 
them.  Derrice,  sitting  bolt  upright  on  a  carved 
bench,  was  earnestly  unfolding  some  tale  to  the 
clergyman,  while  Miss  Gastonguay,  buried  in  the 
deepest  shadow  of  the  room,  pretended  to  be  absorbed 
in  a  book. 

"Come  here,  deacon/*  she  said,  crookmg  her 
finger  at  Justin,  "sit  in  that  old  cathedral  chair  and 
talk  about  that  girl.  She  has  settled  her  affair  with 
me.    You  have  schooled  her  admirably.   I  am  marked, 


iSo 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


labelled,  and  sent  to  perdition.  This  is  your  last  visit 
to  this  house." 

"  Unless  you  repent,  —  *  While  the  lamp  holds  out 
to  bum,  the  vilest  sinner  may  return.'  " 

"  Young  man,  don't  jest.  Tell  me  truly,  do  you 
believe  that  I  am  going  to  be  condemned  eternally.?" 

"  Certainly,  if  you  do  not  believe  in  the  Son  of 
God." 

"Just  what  your  wife  says,  —  little  witch,  —  and 
this  is  your  Christianity,  your  loving-kindness.' 

"  Pardon  me,  it  is  not  my  Christianity." 

"If  there  is  one  thing  in  the  world  that  I  hate 
more  than  another  it  is  a  Puritan,"  she  said,  shaking 
with  a  hastily  evoked  wrath. 

"  If  there  is  one  thing  that  I  admire  it  is  a  Puritan," 
he  said,  coolly,  "  of  late  it  is  so  much  the  fashion  to 
berate  them.  Puritan  is  a  synonym  for  priggishness 
and  general  narrow-mindedness.  The  people  are 
mad.  Do  they  forget  the  stem  stuff  to  which  they 
owe  their  country,  their  liberties,  their  very  exist- 
ence? Away  with  this  sugared  sweetness  of,  'No 
matter  what  one's  faith  is  as  long  as  one  lives  prop- 
erly.'    I  say,  one's  faith  is  one's  life." 

"You  are  quite  excited,'  said  his  hostess,  becoming 
calm  herself. 

"  It  always  excites  me.  New  England  is  burnt  over 
with  heresies.  I  long  for  the  day  of  awakening,  for 
the  wave  of  enthusiasm  that  wiU  spread  over  this 


i  i 


UNQUIET  HEARTS. 


i8i 


countrj'  and  bring  back  the  people  to  the  faith  of 
their  forefathers." 

"You  are  a  fanatic." 

"  I  wish  I  were." 

*'  You  are  also  an  egotist.  If  you  believe  what  you 
say  you  do,  if  it  was  really  your  firm  conviction  that 
my  soul  was  in  danger,  there  would  be  no  getting  rid 
of  you.  Night  and  day  you  would  roam  around 
French  Cross,  calling  on  me  to  repent." 

"True,  true,"  he  said,  "I  acknowledge  it  with 
shame.  Were  I  what  I  ought  to  be  I  would  leave 
my  desk  to-morrow.  Paltry  worldly  affairs  would 
sink  into  insignificance.  I  would  start  on  a  holy 
crusade." 

"  Whereas  you  sit  quietly  here  and  will  go  quietly 
to  your  bank  to-morrow,  when  if  you  and  your  church 
were  carrying  out  the  doctrines  you  profess  you 
would  have  all  Rossignol  beating  its  breast,  —  but  I 
am  wearying  you,  let  us  talk  on  other  subjects." 

"  First,  Miss  Gastonguay,"  he  remarked,  in  a  lower 
voice,  "  let  me  add  a  word  that  I  have  often  wished 
to  say  to  you.  You  do  not  care  for  me,  and  I  do 
not  blame  you,  but  let  me  assure  you  of  my  respect 
and  interest  in  you.  You  only  lack  personal  religion, 
—  will  you  not  submit  your  heart  to  God?" 

"  No,  I  will  not,  Justin  Mercer." 

His  face  softened  still  more.  "Once,  long  ago, 
when  I  was  a  boy,  I  heard  my  father's  voice  in  the 


l82 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


night.  You  know  what  a  saintly  man  he  became,  — 
it  was  his  frequent  habit  to  rise  from  his  bed  and 
pray  for  the  souls  of  his  fellow  men.  That  night  I 
heard  the  mention  of  your  name.  He  was  praying 
that  you  might  be  saved.  Miss  Gastonguay,  I  believe 
you  will." 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  head.  How  many  more 
blows  was  this  young  man  to  inflict  on  her.  "  I 
suppose  you  know,"  she  said,  with  a  sickly  smile, 
"  that  I  might  have  been  your  mother." 

He  smiled  too. 

"  How  long  ago  it  all  seems,  and  yet  how  recent. 
It  might  have  been  yesterday  that  slim  young  Syl- 
vester, in  his  Sunday  coat,  and  with  his  best  stock 
about  his  neck,  went  with  hanging  head  from  this 
house,  and  my  father,  red  with  rage,  stood  brandish- 
ing his  cane  at  him  for  daring  to  aspire  to  the  hand 
of  his  daughter;  vhile  I,  poor  fool,  looked  from  a 
window  above  and  laughed.  I  had  so  many  lovers 
that  I  could  afford  to  surrender  one.  However,  I 
liked  him  more  than  I  at  the  time  suspected,"  she 
went  on  with  more  vigour,  "  though  you  must  not  tell 
your  wife  any  story  about  a  spoiled  love  match.  I 
have  not  married  because  I  have  chosen  to  remain 
single.  Middle  age  and  old  age  are  practical.  Youth 
is  a  far  away  dream.  I  did  not  suffer  much,  and 
your  father  certainly  soon  consoled  himself  with  a 
woman  better  fitted  to  be  a  Puritan's  wiie  than  danc< 


UNQUIET  HEARTS. 


183 


ing  Jane  Gastonguay  ever  was.  Don't  you  think 
so  ? "  and  she  peered  into  his  face. 

Justin,  in  his  stubborn  honesty,  would  not  discuss 
the  matter  with  her.  She  had  flirted  with  his  father 
and  broken  his  heart,  thereby  promoting  him  to 
saintship  gained  through  much  suffering,  and  he 
strongly  suspected  that  she  had  also  broken  her  own 
heart,  and  that  her  peculiarities  were  the  result  of 
this  perversion  of  her  feminine  nature.  She  should 
have  married  and  become  the  contented  mother  of  a 
family. 

Miss  Gastonguay,  as  if  comprehending  his  thoughts, 
changed  the  subject  of  conversation.  "Has  my 
brother  Louis  any  children  beside  this  one } " 

"  No." 

"  Who  was  this  girl's  mother  ? " 

"  A  fair-haired  German  girl  with  a  beautiful  Chris- 
tian character.  She  was  a  school-teacher  whom  my 
wife's  father  met  in  some  boarding-house.  I  gathered 
from  what  he  told  me,  that,  having  learned  after 
marriage  what  he  really  was,  she  faded  away  and 
died,  first  making  him  promise  to  carefully  educate 
her  child." 

"  Did  Louis  love  her  ? " 

"He  broke  down  in  telling  me  about  her." 

"  He  always  had  a  long  head,  had  Louis.  It  looks 
to  me  as  if  he  deliberately  laid  a  scheme  to  have  you 
marry  his  daughter." 


l84 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"I  think  he  did." 

"  And  you  lent  yourself  to  it  ? " 

"I  should  most  certainly  not  have  done  so  had 
she  been  other  than  she  is." 

"  You  have  gained  a  prize  matrimonially." 

Justin's  face  glowed.  "  I  am  not  a  man  of  easy 
speech,"  he  said,  simply,  "  but  I  can  speak  freely  to 
you,  and  I  know  you  will  be  interested  in  hearing 
that  no  opinion  you  can  form  of  my  wife  will  be 
too  high  a  one.  I  wish  I  could  describe  to  you  her 
gentleness  cind  amiability.  Little  by  little  she  has 
undertaken  the  duties  of  a  wife  that  I  was  slow  to 
urge  upon  her.  I  wished  to  keep  her  a  happy  girl 
for  a  time,  but  the  torture  of  leaving  her  father 
brought  on  a  crisis.  She  began  to  ask  questions,  to 
examine  herself,  to  study  me  and  my  relations  to  her, 
and  now  she  has  put  girlhood  far  behind  her,  and  is 
getting  a  firm  grasp  of  things  material  and  spiritual." 

"  Religion  and  love,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  with 
a  sigh,  "  you  have  both,  —  or  think  you  have.  You 
ought  to  be  happy." 

"  We  are,"  said  Justin.  Then  he  was  reminded  of 
a  duty.  He  first  glanced  about  the  room.  Captain 
Veevers's  head  was  bent  over  the  draught-board.  He 
was  beating  Aurelia  now  at  every  game,  for  her  blue 
eyes  had  been  wandering  distractedly  toward  the 
music-room  ever  since  Mr.  Huntington  had  saun- 
tered there. 


UNQUIET  HEARTS. 


1S5 


had 


Derrice  was  engrossed  in  a  book  of  old  print?,  and 
smiled  to  herself  at  quaint  gods  and  goddesses  riding 
on  clouds,  and  surrounded  by  suites  of  attendants  in 
mid-air. 

"Little  idiot,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  wrinkling 
her  brow  in  Aurelia's  direction.  "  Wears  her  heart 
on  her  sleeve.  The  women  here  make  a  simpleton 
of  that  minister  just  because  he  has  legs  as  long  as 
stilts  and  hair  as  pretty  as  a  wig." 

"  Miss  Gastonguay,  will  you  pardon  me  if  I  make 
a  suggestion } " 

"You  may  make  it,  —  I  don't  promise  to  act 
on  it." 

"  You  have  taken  a  liking  to  this  man,"  said  Jus- 
tin, earnestly ;  "  you  who  rarely  entertain  ministers 
of  any  denomination." 

«  Ministers,  —  I  detest  them  all !  The  same  type  : 
men  old  in  the  work,  or  fledglings  fresh  from  the 
theological  seminaries,  —  strict,  narrow-minded,  unin- 
teresting, knowing  nothing  outside  their  denomina- 
tion, whatever  it  happens  to  be,  and  yet  dripping  with 
conceit.  Why,  this  man  can  talk.  He  has  travelled, 
he  understands  music,  books,  pictures  —  " 

"  But,  Miss  Gastonguay,  you  are  clever  enough  to 
perceive  that  he  is  at  this  time  undergoing  a  severe 
struggle  with  himself." 

"There  is  something  the  matter  with  him.  I 
don't  know  what  it  is.      I  only  see  that  he  ^oe3 


i86 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


\\\ 


about  with  a  red  face  and  sulky  eyes.  He  is  really 
losing  his  good  manners." 

"  Suppose  you  were  to  know  that  it  is  a  struggle 
between  his  good  and  his  bad  angel,  —  mind,  I  tell 
this  in  strict  confidence." 

"  Your  confidence  shall  be  respected,  but  how  can 
I  help  him }  I  thought  perhaps  he  was  in  love 
with  Chelda.  She  usually  has  a  dozen  admir^ 
about." 

How  blinded  she  was  by  her  partiality  for  her 
niece ;  and  Justin  could  not  enlighten  her,  could  not 
say,  "  I  have  studied  your  niece.  With  a  cunning 
born  of  her  infatuation  for  this  man,  she  is  deliber- 
ately setting  herself  to  wean  him  from  his  allegiance 
to  the  Church  back  to  the  fleshly  pleasures  of  the 
world." 

"  Miss  Gastonguay,"  he  said,  slowly,  "the  man,  as 
I  understand  him,  is  not  thinking  of  love  or  marriage. 
You  can  imagine  such  a  thing  as  the  conversion  of 
the  intellect  and  not  the  heart  ? "  * 

"  Easily." 

"  I  must  not  judge,"  said  Justin,  struggling  to 
select  only  the  most  fitting  words  ;  "  but  I  fear  it  has 
been  something  like  this  with  Mr.  Huntington.  He 
was  shocked  into  religion,  he  was  convinced  of  his 
own  sin  and  the  sin  of  the  world,  and  he  has  lifted 
up  his  voice  to  save  sinners  and  with  success.  But 
now  his  religious  duties  pall  upon   him.      I   have 


UNQUIET  HEARTS. 


'87 


opportunities  of  studying  him  intimately,  and  I  fear 
he  is  about  to  break  down." 

"  This  is  very  shocking,  but  less  so  when  one  con- 
siders his  up-bringing.  Let  him  go  back  to  the 
world.     It  will  only  be  one  more  soul  to  be  lost." 

"  Miss  Gastonguay,  you  are  kind-hearted.  Don't 
think  it  strange  of  me  if  I  beg  that,  for  a  time, 
you  will  not  exercise  your  hospitality  so  freely  with 
respect  to  him." 

"  Hoity-toity,  am  I  a  frivolous  snare  to  the  rismg 
generation }     Go  to  Mrs.  Jonah  Potts,  young  man." 

"  It  is  not  that,  —  you  understand  me.  Your  sur- 
roundings remind  him  of  former  days.  If  he  is  left 
to  his  flock  for  a  time  he  may  —  " 

Miss  Gastonguay  would  give  him  no  promise. 
"  Stop,  Justin  Mercer,  there  is  your  wife  closing  her 
book ;  it  is  time  for  you  to  take  her  home." 

Justin  got  up,  waited  until  Derrice  said  good 
night,  and  then  followed  her  from  the  room.  Cap- 
tarn  Veevers  took  charge  of  Aurelia,  Mr.  Huntington 
remained  leaning  on  the  piano  and  listening,  without 
speaking,  to  Chelda,  who  played  interminably. 

Derrice  was  very  quiet  on  their  way  down  the 
avenue,  and  Justin  at  last  asked  the  question,  "  Did 
you  enjoy  yourself,  dolly  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  —  I  go  out  so  little  now  that  I  appreciate 
small  pleasures,  —  not  that  I  am  unhappy,"  she  added, 
clinging  closer  to  him.   "  Oh,  no,  I  like  to  live  quietly. 


1 88 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


I  was  thinking  of  Miss  Chelda.  She  was  so  sweet, 
asking  if  she  might  come  soon  and  see  me,  yet  I 
have  an  impression  that  she  does  not  like  me.  She 
seems  to  be  always  watching  me." 

"  She  reminded  me  of  a  snake  as  she  moved  about 
the  room  in  that  spotted  gown,"  said  Justin, 
musingly. 

Derrice,  at  this,  laughed  so  heartily  that  Aurelia, 
coming  behind  with  Captain  Veevers,  begged  to 
know  the  cause  of  her  mirth. 

"Only  a  ridiculous  speech  of  my  husband,"  she 
said ;  "  not  worth  repeating." 

Justin  paused,  in  order  to  allow  the  others  to 
catch  up  to  them.  How  strange  were  the  differing 
mental  characteristics  in  one  family.  Derrice  and 
Miss  Gastonguay  were  singularly  alike  in  their  honest 
vivacity.  Both  were  incapacitated  by  their  intellec- 
tual make-up  from  understanding  the  hidden  motives 
of  so  deep  a  soul  as  Chelda's. 

Derrice  was  gazing  back  at  the  lighted  house. 
"  How  delightfully  foreign  it  is  !  " 

Aurelia,  too,  looked  back,  but  her  thought 
was  not  of  the  house,  and  her  thin  lips  trembled 
as  she  murmured,  "Yes."  Captain  Veevers  did 
not  speak,  but  Justin  said,  decidedly,  "I  do  not 
like  it." 

"  Why  not } "  asked  his  wife,  in  surprise. 
Because   I   do  not  believe  in  Americans  aping 


u 


• 


'T-SSBSWbwi 


UNQUIET  HEARTS. 


189 


foreign  architecture.  We  have  our  own  style,  the 
colonial.  Why  should  we  not  cultivate  that }  We 
are  neither  Dutch,  nor  Chmese,  nor  French.  Why 
should  we  live  in  their  houses  ?     They  do  not  live  in 


ours. 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  his  wife.  "  I  like 
the  sentiment." 

"  And  educating  children  abroad,"  continued  Justin, 
"  I  think  it  is  a  custom  fraught  with  bad  results. 
Boys  and  girls  educated  abroad  wish  to  stay  abroad, 
or  they  come  home  prating  as  Chelda  Gastonguay 
used  to  do  of  *  perfect  Europe,'  and  '  charming  for- 
eign manners.*" 

"  *  If  it  only  came  from  Paris,  darling  Paris,  lovely  Paris, 
I  would  buy  it,'  said  Miss  Harris, 
*  If  it  only  came  from  Paris.' " 

As  Derrice  chanted  the  jingle,  Aurelia  and  Cap- 
tain Veevers  laughed  and  passed  by,  while  Justin 
continued,  "Chelda  Gastonguay  detests  Rossignol. 
Nothing  will  hold  her  here  when  her  aunt  dies." 

"  They  have  travelled  a  good  deal } " 

"  Constantly.  Miss  Chelda  was  educated  abroad. 
She  has  always  been  unhappy  here  until  lately." 

"  Why  does  she  like  it  now } " 

Justin  could  not  tell  her,  but  Derrice  rushed  to  a 
satisfactory  conclusion.  "I  believe  she  Hkes  Mr. 
Huntington,"  she  exclaimed. 


• 


V 


I90 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


He  neither  contradicted  nor  confirmed  her  asser- 
tion, but  a  sudden  relief  came  over  him.  In  Derrice's 
friendly  liking  for  the  man,  might  be  found  an  anti- 
dote for  the  subtle  influence  of  her  cousin. 


I'liii 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A   FAMILY   CEMENTED   BY   LOVE. 


"HiPPOLYTA  Prymmer,  Tvc  comc  to  ask  your 
pardon.  Let  bygones  be  bygones.  I've  been  ugly, 
and  I  acknowledge  it.  I'll  try  to  do  better  in 
future.     Let's  shake  hands." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  stood  slowly  opening  and  shutting 
her  mouth.  Was  it  really  Jane  Gastonguay  —  rich 
Jane  Gastonguay  —  that  stood  in  her  pailour  thus 
humbly  suing  for  forgivenesfi  ? 

"  You  see,"  Miss  Gastonguay  went  on,  "  there  has 
always  been  something  in  our  two  natures  that 
clashed.  I  have  been  the  worst,  I  acknowledge  it, 
and  now  I  want  to  know  if  you  will  forgive  me,  and 
come  to  see  me  sometimes,  —  not  too  often,  for  it  is 
dangerous  to  see  too  much  of  people." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  usually  put  her  worst  foot  foremost. 
Down  in  her  heart  were  hidden  depths  of  kindness 
never  explored  by  herself  or  by  others.  Something 
away  down  there  no^  stirred  tentatively.  "  Wj  were 
girls  together,"  she  said,  simply,  as  she  took  the 
hand  of  her  former  schoolmate. 


102 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


nil 

'ulill 


"  And  now  we  will  be  old  women  together.  Thank 
fortune,  this  scene  is  over.  Where  is  your  daughter- 
in-law  ? "  , 

"  Next  door." 

"  Ah,  she  likes  that  conglomerate  family/* 

"  And  the  minister,"  said  Mrs.  Prymmer,  dryly. 
"  I  suppose  it's  all  right.  Married  women  usen't  to 
run  about  so  much  in  my  day." 

"  Fie  upon  you,  let  others  criticise  your  daughter- 
in-law." 

"  You  always  had  a  free-hung  tongue,  Jane  Gaston- 
guay,"  said  Mrs.  Prymmer,  with  spirit. 

"  True,  true,  you've  got  the  whip-hand  of  me  now, 
Hippolyta.  My  niece  is  out  in  the  carriage,  she 
wants  to  see  your  daughter-in-law.  We'll  run  in  to 
the  parsonage.  Good-bye/'  and  she  bustled  out  of 
the  house. 

Derrice  was  sitting  on  the  well-worn  sofa  in  the 
parlour  of  the  little  house,  awaiting  the  return  of 
the  various  members  of  the  family.  So  much  at 
home  was  she  that  she  had  picked  up  a  book  and 
was  quietly  reading  when  Miss  Gastonguay  burst  in 
upon  her. 

"  How  do  you  do,  child.  Why  haven't  you  been 
to  see  me  ? " 

«*  I  don't  like  to  go  too  often." 

" But  you  enjoy  visiting  me?" 

"Very  much  indeed." 


m 


A  .''4MILY  CEMENTED  BY  LOVE. 


193 


Miss  Gastonguay  looked  around  as  if  to  make 
sure  that  she  would  not  be  overheard.  "You  will 
not  tell  any  one  if  I  favour  you  with  a  confidence  ? " 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Well,  you  remind  me  of  a  former  dear  friend.  I 
like  to  have  you  with  me.  Come  to  French  Cross 
as  often  as  you  will,  and  never  be  frightened  by  my 
gruff  ways." 

"And  you,"  said  Derrice,  playfully,  "you  also 
remind  me  of  some  one." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  My  father." 

Miss  Gastonguay  immediately  became  interested 
in  an  adventurous  fly  who,  thinking  spring  had 
come,  had  sallied  from  his  retreat  in  tUe  wall,  and 
was  pursuing  a  shaky  course  toward  the  ceiling. 

"Your  voice  is  like  his,"  said  Derrice,  "particu- 
larly when  you  lower  it.  I  am  fortunate  in  having 
Captain  White  to  remind  me  of  his  appearance,  and 
you  to  call  up  his  very  tones." 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  Miss  Gaston- 
gua)%  suddenly  losing  interest  in  the  fly,  gently 
patted  her  head. 

"  Is  there  not  some  one  in  the  hall  ? "  ''sked  Der- 
rice.    "  I  thought  I  heard  a  step." 

"No,  child.  You  hear  my  niece  in  the  kitchen 
talking  to  old  black  Rebecca,  —  tell  me  about  this 
father  of  yours." 


rWtrt*t 
'  III 


.m. 


m 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Derrice  was  only  too  glad  to  do  so,  and,  launching 
herself  on  a  full  tide  of  happy  reminiscences,  she 
soon  presented  to  her  interested  hearer  an  almost 
perfect  picture  of  an  indulgent  father  who  had  pre- 
sided over  her  pleasant  wandering  life. 

At  last  she  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
two  demure  rosy  little  girls  who  came  running  down 
the  hall  to  salute  her  with  cries  of  joyful  welcome. 

"Well,  papooses,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  as  she 
watched  Derrice  taking  off  their  woollen  caps  and 
smoothing  back  their  tumbled  hair,  "are  you  not 
glad  to  see  me  .^ " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes.  Miss  Gastonguay,"  they  hastened 
to  assure  her,  "  but  you  don't  come  so  often." 

"  My  niefte  does." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Chelda,"  they  repeated,  without  enthu- 
siasm.    "  She  comes  often.     Rebecca  loves  her." 

"  Rebecca  has  cause  to,"  muttered  Miss  Gaston- 
guay. "I  suspect  a  good  many  of  Chelda's  silver 
pieces  find  their  way  into  her  bag  of  a  pocket,"  then, 
sinking  back  on  the  sofa,  she  allowed  her  eyes  to 
wander  about  the  room. 

There  were  no  grand  apartments  at  Number  50 
Blaine  Street,  no  luxuries  in  the  way  of  furnishings 
and  decorations,  but  the  small  house  possessed  some- 
thing that  many  of  the  finer  houses  of  the  town 
could  not  boast  of,  —  an  air  of  quiet  cheerfulness  and 
homeliness    that    made   Miss   Gastonguay   murmur 


:iiii  r ' 


A  FAMILY  CEMENTED  BY  LOVE. 


195 


restlessly,  "The  woman  who  presides  here  is  hap- 
pier than  I  am." 

"You  know  the  history  of  that  eldest  girl,"  she 
said,  when  the  two  children  ran  away  to  hang  up 
their  caps  and  jackets. 

"Yes,  —  she  was  taken  out  of  some  dreadful 
house  in  this  town." 

"A  house  —  a  den,  and  in  it  her  childish  eyes 
once  witnessed  a  murder.  One  would  never  think 
it  to  \oo\i  at  her  now.  Mary  Potts  Negus  is  a 
genius  at  rescuing  and  bringing  up  children.  One 
would  fancy  that  she  had  had  enough  trouble  in  rais- 
ing her  own  and  settling  them  in  life." 

The  two  girls  soon  returned.  One  of  them, 
Marion,  excused  herself  on  the  plea  of  housewifely 
duties ;  the  other,  Bessie,  remained  with  her  callers, 
and  in  a  gentle  and  motherly  manner  received  the 
other  children  as  they  came  in. 

The  baby  of  the  family,  laughing  and  crowing 
with  delight,  arrived  first  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
eldest  lad,  who  had  been  giving  him  an  airing  on  a 
hand-sled.  This  child,  Bessie  drew  to  the  fire,  and 
with  careful  fingers  divested  him  of  manifold  wraps, 
much  interrupted  during  the  process  by  his  per- 
sistence in  throwing  his  arms  around  her  neck. 

Following  the  baby  and  the  lad  came  two  other 
boys,  orphan  twins  deserted  by  their  parents  and 
adopted  by  the  charitable  Mrs.  Negus.   They  stopped 


196 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


i  > 


long  enough  in  the  hall  to  pull  off  the  fur  caps 
drawn  down  over  their  foreheads,  then,  with  unmiti- 
gated pleasure  overspreading  their  freckled  faces, 
they,  too,  entered  the  room,  and  greeted  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay  with  deference,  and  Derrice  with  an  air  of 
comradeship. 

Miss  Gastonguay  stared  with  interest  at  them, 
while  Derrice  said,  "  What  have  you  been  doing 
to-day,  boys  ? " 

"Trying  a  new  sport,  — skeeing.  You  tie  things 
something  like  toboggans  on  your  feet  and  you  slide 
down  hill  like  the  wind.  It's  great  fun.  Will  you 
come  and  try  it  to-morrow  } " 

She  was  just  assuring  them  that  she  would  do  so, 
when  the  mistress  of  the  house  entered  the  room. 
Derrice  had  much  ado  to  preserve  her  gravity,  though 
she  was  by  this  time  well  used  to  the  sight  of  her 
philanthropic  neighbour. 

Mrs.  Negus  was  nothing  but  a  bundle  of  wraps. 
Broad  she  was  about  her  shoulders  and  chest,  taper- 
ing gradually  down  to  a  scant  black  dress  and  a  pair 
of  small  feet.  After  the  unwinding  and  unfolding 
of  several  scarfs,  a  woollen  shawl,  and  a  long  veil, 
she  stood  revealed,  —  beaming  face,  spectacles,  and 
pepper  and  salt  curls  surrounded  by  a  heap  of  news- 
papers that  had  fallen  from  her  garments. 

"  Heat  preservers,  my  dear  Miss  Gastonguay,"  she 
said  to  the  elder  of  her  callers.  "  When  I  dress  to  go 


A   FAMILY  CEMENTED  BY  LOV£.. 


197 


,"  she 
to  go 


out,  I  run  some  Expresses  up  my  back  and  a  couple 
of  Globes  over  my  chest.  Then  I  am  ^  Republican- 
Democrat,  and  between  the  two  political  parties  you 
have  no  idea  how  warm  I  keep.  Bessie,  will  you 
please  look  in  the  dictionary  and  see  what  *  napiform  ' 
means.  I  met  Cousin  Jonah  Potts  to-day,  and  he 
muttered  something  about  my. being  'napiform.*  I 
know  he  doesn't  approve  of  my  style  of  dress,  but  as 
I  am  rheumatic  I  have  got  to  stick  to  it,  for  who 
would  attend  to  my  family  of  mixed  pickles  if  I  were 
taken  away } " 

"  Who,  indeed } "  said  Miss  Gastonguay.  "  There's 
no  one  in  the  town  would  put  up  with  them,  but  you, 
Mary  Potts  Negus." 

"  Napiform,"  said  the  child,  slowly  reading  from 
a  dictionary  that  she  had  taken  off  the  bookcase, 
"from  the  Latin  napiis^  a.  turnip,  and  forma,  a  shape. 
Having  the  shape  of  a  turnip,  or  swelled  in  the 
upper  part  and  becoming  more  slender  below." 

Mrs.  Negus  shook  her  curls.  "  Saucy  Jonah  !  if 
any  cwie  else  had  said  that  about  me  he  would  have 
been  angry.  Now  I'll  go  up-stairs.  We  all  have  a 
bad  habit  of  rushing  into  the  parlour  when  we  come 
in.  We  go  so  fast  when  we  are  out  that  we  have  to 
sink  down  into  the  first  resting-place  we  see  when 
we  get  home.  Bessie,  my  dear,  did  Marion  put 
extra  tea  in  the  teapot  ? " 

"  Yes,  auntie," 


r 


■    *Ht'*' 

1   ill!:: 

t  Ijlllli 


\  I  III!! 


illiiii- 


i 


198 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  And  get'  a  clean  cloth  ? " 

"  Yes,  she*did." 

"  Well,  cut  some  cake,  not  in  too  large  pieces, 
and  I'll  be  down  presently,"  and  she  was  about  to 
dart  toward  the  door  when  Miss  Gastonguay  recalled 
her. 

"Mary  Potts  Negus,  I'm  not  going  to  stay  to 
supper." 

"Now,  now,"  and  the  little  woman  exhibited  so 
much  disappointment  that  Derrice  laid  a  pleading 
hand  on  her  new  friend's  knee. 

"  I  never  do  such  a  thing  in  the  world." 

"  Make  a  beginning,  then,  I'd  love  to  have  you, 
particularly  as  you  send  me  such  good  checks  for 
these  little  ones." 

"  But  I've  got  my  niece  here." 

"That  is  no  matter ;  she  often  comes." 

"Very  well,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  with  resigna- 
tion. "  Go,  one  of  you  boys,  and  send  my  carriage 
home." 

The  twins  whipped  out-of-doors,  and  Miss  Gaston- 
guay thoughtfully  watched  Derrice,  who  had  seated 
herself  on  the  hearth-rug  and  was  tickling  the  baby's 
dimpled  chin  until  he  shrieked  with  delight. 

"Where's  your  husband,  child  ?" 

"  In  Bangor,"  said  Derrice. 

"  And  do  you  always  get  your  meals  here  when  he 
is  absent  ? " 


iillliii  i 


A  FAMILY  CEMENTED  BY  LOVE. 


199 


"  Nearly  always." 

"You  must  make  it  up  to  Mrs.  Negus.  Her 
purse  isn't  very  deep  and  she  keeps  on  adopting 
children." 

"  I  have  written  to  my  father  to  send  me  some 
money  for  her." 

Miss  Gastonguay  Lastily  opened  her  mouth,  then 
closed  it  again,  for  Chelda  stood  before  her.  "  You 
are  going  to  stay,  aunt } "  she  asked,  in  slight  surprise. 

"Yes." 

Chelda  made  no  comment,  and  even  went  to  play 
with  Derrice  and  the  baby  on  the  hearth-rug,  but 
Miss  Gastonguay  saw  from  her  manner  that  she  was 
not  pleased. 


mi 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


A    PARTIAL    SURRENDER. 


In  the  midst  of  Derrice's  frolic  with  the  baby, 
Captain  White  appeared  in  the  doorway.  "Good 
night,"  he  said,  composedly. 

"  Just  as  if  he  were  going  to  bed,"  Chelda  super- 
ciliously reflected.  This  assemblage  was  becoming 
altogether  too  plebeian  for  her  taste. 

Derrice  turned  around  in  reproachful  surprise. 
"  Captain  White,  I  particularly  hoped  that  you  would 
not  come." 

"  Did  yoU;  Cousin  Derrice  ?  I  guess  you  haven't  a 
monopoly  of  this  house.  Mrs.  Prymmer's  off  to  a 
religious  tea-party  with  some  of  the  sisters,  and  Mrs. 
Negus,  seeing  me  on  the  steps  and  thinking  I  looked 
lonely,  asked  me  over.     Please  give  me  that  baby." 

"  I  am  just  having  a  little  play  with  him  myself." 

"Keep  him  if  you  can,"  said  Captain  White. 
"  Come,  beauty,"  and  he  held  out  his  arms  to  the 
child.     "  Look  at  him  now." 

Hobbling  over  the  floor,  helping  himself  along  by 
-  means  of  a  hand  and  a  foot,  waving  his  other  hand 

200 


A  PARTIAL  SURRENDER. 


201 


in  the  air,  chuckling  and  choking  in  babyish  delight, 
the  tiny  creature  made  his  way  to  Captain  White's 
feet,  and  attempted  to  climb  up  his  legs. 

The  man  tossed  him  to  the  ceiling,  laughing  mean- 
while at  Derrice,  who  sat  in  pretended  dejection  at 
the  baby's  desertion  of  her. 

Captain  White's  twinkling  eyes  danced  over  every 
person  in  the  room.  He  possessed  no  organ  of 
reverence.  Miss  Gastonguay  and  her  niece  were  no 
more  to  him  than  the  humblest  persons  in  the  town, 
and,  coolly  tripping  away  to  the  hJl,  he  engaged  in 
a  long  conversation  with  the  baby,  of  which  such 
highly  intelligible  scraps  as  "  Linktum,  toddyum, 
widdy  wee  Bootses  — ".  occasionally  floated  to  the 
people  left  behind. 

"  Why  didn't  you  want  that  man  to  come  > "  asked 
Miss  Gastonguay,  curiously. 

"  Because,"  said  Derrice,  "  we  become  so  riotous 
when  he  is  here.  He  is  like  a  magician  among  the 
children,  and  they  get  so  noisy  and  I  —  sometimes 
I  forget  to  be  as  dignified  as  a  married  woman  ought 
to  be." 

"Where  did  .that  baby  come  from.?"  said  Miss 
Gastonguay.  "I  haven't  got  on  the  track  of  this 
latest  one." 

"Nobody  knows.  Captain  White  brought  him 
here.  His  past  history  does  not  matter,  Mrs.  Negus 
says,  for  he  will  bq  well  looked  after  now." 


202 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"Good  for  you,  Cousin  Derrice,"  said  Captain 
White,  returning  unexpectedly.  "  Some  women 
adore  a  mystery.  They  fork  it  over  and  look  under 
and  over  it,  and  smell  about  it  to  see  if  they  can't 
catch  a  whiff  of  something  more  than  they  ought  to 
catch.  Now  to  reward  you,  I'll  tell  who  he  is.  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  making  his  acquaintance  down 
on  one  of  the  Boston  wharves  where  he  was  about  to 
attend  his  own  drowning,  and  was  grinning  like  a 
Chessy  cat  over  it.  *  What  are  you  going  to  do  with 
that  baby  ?  *  I  asked  his  mother.  She  was  drunk  as 
an  owl,  and  told  me  she  was  about  to  throw  him  to 
the  fishes.  No  one  would  give  her  work  with  that 
great  baby  hanging  on  her,  and  she  was  too  proud  to 
starve  him.  *  How  much  will  you  sell  him  for  } '  I 
asked.  She  steadied  herself  against  a  cask,  and 
swore  that  she  wouldn't  sell  her  own  flesh  and  blood. 
*  Then  give  him  to  me,*  I  said,  *  and  I'll  take  care  of 
him.*  The  mother  spirit  cropped  up  in  the  drunken 
witch.  She  rolled  aboard  the  schooner,  asked  a 
few  questions  as  to  my  character  from  the  men 
around,  then,  without  a  word,  put  the  child  in  my 
arms.'* 

Miss  Gastonguay  was  listening  in  grim  interest. 
Derrice  had  her  face  buried  in  the  child's  pihk  neck, 
and  even  Chelda  exhibited  signs  of  sympathy. 

"Go  on,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  after  a  time. 
"  What  did  you  do  for  the  mother  ? " 


A  PARTIAL  SURRENDER. 


203 


"Nothing  much,"  he  said,  sheepishly.  "Only 
gave  her  address  to  some  folks  who  look  after  such 
like,  —  and  of  course  I'll  let  'em  know  how  the  child 
gets  on." 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh,  Captain  White ! "  and  an  avalanche 
of  children  descended  upon  him.  "  You're  going  to 
stay  to  supper,  —  you're  going  to  stay  ♦^o  supper,  — 
what  fun !  " 

"  Hello,  you  fellows,  get  out."  And  wheeling  sud- 
denly, he  drove  them  all  into  the  hall  and  to  the 
upper  regions  of  the  house,  from  whence  sounds  of  a 
wild  frolic  soon  floated  down  below. 

*'  Supper  is  ready,  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Negus,  return- 
ing to  the  room.  "  We  won't  wait  for  Mr.  Hunting- 
ton. Hark  though,  isn't  he  coming  now } "  and  she 
ran  nimbly  to  the  front  door. 

It  was  Mr.  Huntington  returning  from  a  solitary 
walk.  "We'll  go  right  on,  dear  boy,"  said  Mrs. 
Negus.  "Please  send  the  children  down-stairs,  and 
I'll  get  them  to  the  table,  and  do  you  come  as  soon 
as  you  can." 

Mr.  Huntington  did  not  look  into  the  room  as  he 
went  up  the  staircase.  Presently,  at  his  bidding,  the 
merry  group  of  children  came  filing  down,  breathing 
hard  and  fast,  and  making  vain  efforts  to  subdue 
their  high  spirits. 

Mrs.  Negus  scanned  them  through  her  glasses, 
shook  her  head  till  her  curls  danced,  and  said,  apolo- 


204 


DEFICIENT  iAINTS. 


getically,  to  Miss  Gastonguay,  "  They  are  always 
frisky  in  frosty  weather." 

"  So  are  my  horses,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay.  "  And 
remember,  Mary  Potts  Negus,  that  I  was  once  a 
child." 

Mrs.  Negus  marshalled  her  family  to  the  table, 
requested  Captain  White  to  take  the  baby  to  Rebecca 
in  the  kitchen,  then  invited  Miss  Gastonguay  to  say 
grace. 

"  I'll  not  do  it,"  said  her  guest. 

"  Captain  White,  then,"  said  the  little  woma.i,  again 
nodding  her  head. 

Captain  White  also  refused,  so  she  was  forced  to 
ask  for  a  blessing  on  the  food  herself,  whj.ch  she  did 
with  great  amiability  and  reverence. 

When  a  few  minutes  passed  and  Mr.  Hunting- 
ton did  not  come,  she  sent  one  of  the  twins  for 
him. 

"  He  was  reading,"  said  the  lad  ;  "  he  had  forgottCu 
all  about  supper,  but  when  I  told  him  who  was  here 
he  wouldn't  come." 

"  Flattering  for  us,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  with 
such  appreciative  irony  that  the  children,  thinking  a 
joke  was  intended,  laughed  uproariously. 

Captain  White  in  some  anxiety  was  surveying  tl  j 
table.  There  were  on  it  sundry  stacks  of  bread  and 
butter,  that  would  fly  like  chaff  before  the  whirlwind 
when  the  boys  got  at  th^sm,  a  small  pyramid  oi 


A  PARTIAL  SURRENDER. 


205 


cheese  cut  in  squares,  and  only  part  of  a  plum  loaf 
in  wedge-shaped  pieces.  Miss  Gastonguay,  as  the 
most  honoured  guest,  had  been  asked  to  carve,  and 
sat  in  composed  gravity  behind  a  joint  of  cold  beef 
that,  judging  from  its  appearance,  had  already  figured 
at  the  dinner-table.  She  was  also,  being  unused  to 
planning,  carving  it  in  too  generous  slices. 

"  Beg  pardon,  ma'am,"  he  remarked,  "  but  you're 
not  going  to  make  this  spin  out.  This  family  is 
larger  than  usual  this  evening." 

Sensitive,  gentle  Marion  quivered  with  excitement. 
She  it  was  who  had  proposed  having  the  cold  meat 
for  supper. 

"Cheese  is  good  enough  for  a  relish,"  Mrs.  Negus 
had  said  during  the  progress  of  a  somewhat  impas- 
sioned interview  in  the  pantry. 

"  But  those  people  are  accustomed  to  late  dinner," 
Marion  had  pleaded.  "  I  think  we  ought  to  have  meat 
and  potato  for  them." 

"  Well,  you  may  have  the  meat,"  Mrs.  Negus  had 
said,  "but  you  can't  have  the  potatoes.  If  they 
want  dinner  at  night  let  them  stay  at  home.  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  them,  but  they  must  accommodate 
themselves  to  our  ways.  Bread  and  butter  and 
cheese  and  apple  sauce  are  good  enough  for  any- 
body." 

And  now  the  beef  was  going  to  give  out  and 
Marion  would  be  covered  with  confusion,  for  Aunt 


206 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Ill  i< 


11 
lii  il 


Negus  would  be  sure  to  say,  in  her  good-natured, 
stubborn  way,  "  You  shouldn't  have  proposed  it." 

"  I  have  a  plan,"  said  Captain  White,  his  downcast 
face  clearing  as  he  watched  Miss  Gastonguay's  knife 
wandering  vainly  around  the  promontories  and  head- 
lands of  the  joint,  searching  for  meat  and  finding 
none.  "Pass  me  the  plates,  children,  I'll  doctor 
them." 

^^^len  they  stood  in  a  row  before  him,  he  seized  a 
fork,  and  expeditiously  lifting  the  slices  from  one 
plate  to  another,  got  at  last  an  equal  quantity  on 
each  one.  "  Now  we  ought  to  have  some  potatoes. 
I'll  fry  some.     Marion,  come  help  me." 

"Micah  White,"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Negus,  "you 
impertinent  boy." 

"  I  saw  them  in  the  pantry,"  he  said,  "  a  whole  dish 
full.  Here,  Cousin  Derrice,  is  another  piece  for  you. 
I've  too  much  on  my  plate.  Good  Aunt  Negus, 
forgive  me,  and  come  too;"  and  as  he  passed  her 
place  he  stretched  out  his  muscular  arms,  lifted 
her  bodily,  chair  and  all,  and  carried  her  out  to  the 
kitchen  with  him,  she  meanwhile  clutching  at  the 
little  cap  set  over  the  knob  of  hair  on  the  back  of 
her  head,  exclaiming  loudly  at  his  foolishness,  and 
trying  to  control  the  shrieking  crew  of  children 
behind  her. 

"  That  wild  sailor,"  said  Chelda,  scornfully. 

"  He  is  not  as  bad  as  O'Toole,"  said  her  aunt 


A  PARTIAL  SURRENDER. 


5o; 


"I'd  rather  have  a  sober  riot  than  a  drunken  one. 
What,  has  Derrice  Mercer  gone,  too?  She  likes 
a  bit  of  fun.  Well,  as  they  have  all  deserted  us,  it 
is  not  worth  while  for  you  and  me  to  stay,"  and 
seizing  a  newspaper  she  threw  herself  into  an  arm- 
chair and  began  to  read. 

Captain  White  was  addressing  Mrs.  Negus.  "  You 
see,  auntie,  we  must  do  something  to  flank  that 
supper.  There  are  the  cat  and  dog  to  come  yet,  and 
also  Rebecca,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  old  black  woman 
holding  the  white  baby  and  grinning  at  the  invasion 
of  her  kitchen.  "  You  draw  the  line  a  little  short.  If 
you  and  John  Gilpin's  wife  could  have  set  up  house- 
keeping together  you  would  have  died  millionaires," 
and  humming,  gaily,  "She  was  of  a  frugal  mind," 
he  turned  up  his  coat-sleeves,  sliced  the  cold  potatoes 
rapidly,  and  tossed  them  to  Marion,  who  put  them 
into  a  hot  frying-pan. 

In  ten  minutes  they  returned  to  the  dining-room, 
flushed  and  happy,  and  bearing  between  them  a  huge 
platter  of  smoking  hot  potatoes  with  a  ring  of  fried 
onions  around  them. 

"Who  is  for  onions?"  asked  Captain  WTiite. 
"Miss  Chelda  Gastonguay,  you  must  have  some. 
Great  beauty-feeders  are  they.  Ugly  girls  can  be- 
come pretty  by  eating  onions  —  " 

Miss  G&stonguay  suppressed  a  smile.  The  sharp- 
eyed  captain  had  discovered  Chelda's  disdain. 


208 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  Aunt  Negus,"  he  rattled  on,  "  don't  water  that 
teapot  before  you  pour  my  cup.  I  take  it  stronger 
than  the  children." 

She  paused  with  the  cover  of  the  teapot  in  her 
hand,  and,  after  filling  his  cup,  went  on  with  the 
watering  process. 

"  Auntie's  tea-tray  looks  like  the  square  when  a 
parade  is  going  on,"  said  the  more  waggish  of  the 
twins.  "  See  how  the  cups  are  drawn  up  in  battle 
array.  Those  that  don't  take  sugar,  bayonets  at  the 
side,  —  that  is,  spoons  in  saucers.  Those  that  do, 
present  arms,  —  spoons  upright  in  clips.  Then  quick, 
march, — here  they  come,"  as  she  started  on  their 
way  the  rows  of  cups  she  had  filled  with  precision  as 
to  the  exact  quantity  of  milk  and  sugar  desired  by 
each  person. 

Derrice  and  Captain  White  talked  to  the  children. 
Chelda  took  what  little  she  ate  in  silence,  and  Miss 
Gastonguay  addressed  her  conversation  to  Mrs. 
Negus,  who  gave  her  various  items  of  information 
with  regard  to  a  busy  life  of  sewing,  darning,  bak- 
ing, shopping,  and  caring  for  the  children  cast  off 
by  relatives,  but  now  happy  objects  of  her  affection. 

After  supper.  Captain  White  fled  to  the  attic,  pur- 
sued by  the  children  and  Derrice,  who  half-shame- 
facedly  said  that  she  would  go  to  keep  them  quiet. 

*'5he  likes  a  romp,"  said  Mrs.  Negus.  "She  was 
pretty  young  to  be   married.     Then  following  the 


A   PARTIAL  SURRENDER. 


209 


law  of  association  she  turned  to  Chelda.  "  My  dear 
girl,  I  am  thinking  of  that  poor  boy  shut  up  in  his 
study.  He  mus.  have  one  of  his  gloomy  fits  on 
him.  Would  you  think  it  a  liberty  if  I  asked  you  to 
take  up  a  supper-tray.^  He  would  not  be  vexed 
with  you,  tc     _j  likes  you." 

"  I  should  not  mind  it  at  all,"  said  Chelda,  gra- 
ciously, and  she  followed  her  to  the  kitchen. 

A  minute  later,  Mrs.  Negus,  after  giving  some 
directions,  hurried  back  to  Miss  Gastonguay,  and 
Chelda  stood  gazing  at  the  black  woman  who  was 
phlegmatically  disposing  of  the  remnants  of  the  beef 
and  potatoes. 

"  Mrs.  riercer  comes  here  pretty  often,  I  suppose," 
said  the  young  lady. 

"  Oh,  law,  yes,  miss,  —  every  da^  an*  mos'  evenin's, 
an*  I'm  always  ponderin*  an*  ponderin*  about  her." 

"  What  are  you  pondering } " 

"  'Cause  she's  the  moral  image  of  a  lady  I  onct 
knowed." 

"  Where  ? " 

"  In  Boston  city.  You  know,  miss,  I  was  onct  a 
housemaid  thar  in  a  boarding-house  on  Beacon  Hill. 
Law  me,  them  houses  roun*  about  was  a  sight  to  see 
at  meal -times.  People  comin'  out  of  *em  like  rats 
out  of  holes.     Every  room  plum  full.** 

"  Who  was  the  lady  ? " 

"  German  born,  American  married.     Her  husband 


210 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


wam't  no  good,  —  he  favoured  Cap'en  White  some- 
what." 

Chelda's  face  did  not  alter,  but  her  questions  did. 
They  had  been  prompted  by  a  subtle  wish  to  ac- 
quaint herself  with  every  detail  of  life  in  the  house 
of  the  man  she  loved.  Now  she  was  reminded  of 
the  conversation  between  her  aunt  and  Derrice  that 
she  had  overheard  a  few  hours  before,  and  she  at 
once  became  keenly  interested,  and  asked,  sharply, 
"  What  do  you  mean  by  no  good } " 

"  I  dunno,  miss.  I  jus*  heard  his  wife  goin*  for 
him  one  day." 

"  Didn't  she  say  what  he  had  done  ?  " 

"  I  jus'  misremember." 

Chelda  drew  a  dollar  bill  from  her  purse,  rolled  it 
up  and  tucked  it  between  some  dishes  on  the  dresser. 

Rebecca's  thick  lips  moved  greedily.  "I'll  tell 
you  all  I  know,  miss,  but  I  ain't  got  no  more  memory 
nor  a  badger.  She  was  a  German  an'  her  hair  was 
so  light  it  was  mos'  white.  She  was  pretty,  too,  and 
w'en  her  husban'  used  to  stay  out  late  she'd  cry  an' 
talk,  but  I  never  heard  what  she  said ;  but  I  knew 
she  was  good,  an'  if  she  cried  he  mus'  be  bad.'' 

"  Have  you  told  Mrs.  Mercer  this  ? " 

"  Law,  no.  I  asked  her  what  her  name  was  before 
marriage,  an'  she  said  somethin'  different.  Lan  — 
Lan— " 

"Lancaster?" 


A   PARTIAL   SURRENDER. 


211 


« 


(( 


"That's  it;  now  the  name  oi  my  folkses  was 
different.  Jones  or  James  or  some  such,  so  it  ain't 
the  same  'ceptin'  her  mother  had  a  sister,  an'  she 
says  she  hadn't." 

Probably  it  is  a  case  of  casual  resemblance." 
Prob'ly,  miss." 

"  I  don't  think  Mrs.  Mercer's  mother  was  a  Ger- 
man." 

"  Yes  she  were,  miss,  she  tole  me." 

"  Indeed  —  oh,  well,  it  is  a  coincidence,  you  had 
better  stop  pondering  over  it." 

"  I  guess  I  will,  miss." 

"  By  the  way,  what  was  the  address  of  that  board- 
ing-house } " 

"  Persia  Street.  I  misremember  the  number,  but 
it's  writ  down  in  my  Bible.  I'll  get  it,"  and  she 
hobbled  up  a  back  stairway. 

Chelda  glanced  once  at  the  title-page  of  the  shabby 
volume  held  open  before  her,  and  with  an  assump- 
tion of  perfect  indifference  took  the  tray  that  Rebecca 
made  ready  for  her,  and  went  to  Mr.  Huntington's 
study. 

"  Who  is  there .? "  he  asked  when  she  knocked. 

"  Chelda,"  she  replied,  in  a  soft,  low  voice. 

He  immediately  threw  open  the  door  and  pre- 
sented to  her  his  flushed  face  and  burning  eyes. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  I  have  brought  you  something 
to  eat." 


212 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  You  are  very  kind,"  he  said,  but  there  was  no 
gratitude  in  his  tone. 

"  We  have  missed  you ;  — the  table  is  nothing  with- 
out you,"  she  said,  gently. 

"  I  could  not  go  down,"  he  muttered. 

She  sat  down,  and  with  her  whole  soul  in  her  dark 
eyes  looked  up  at  him.      "  You  wished  to  avoid  me." 

His  silence  was  an  answer  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Have  you  no  pity  for  me  ?  Do  you  think  I  have 
no  shame  ?  Who  is  there  in  your  church  that  has 
your  interest  at  heart  as  I  have.^ " 

There  was  no  one.  Her  love  for  him  was  un- 
womanly in  its  forwardness,  yet  it  was  sincere. 

"Come  away  from  here,"  she  said,  pleadingly, 
"  come  with  me.  My  aunt  likes  you.  We  can  go 
where  we  will.  You  need  never  see  this  place  again." 

He  clenched  his  hands  at  her  words,  and  his  face, 
in  his  mortal  struggle  with  himself,  was  more  like 
the  face  of  a  beast  than  a  man,  yet  she  did  not  quail. 

"  It  disgusts  me,"  she  cried,  springing  to  her 
feet  and  laying  a  hand  on  his  quivering  breast,  "  the 
way  in  which  these  uneducated  people  order  you 
about.  It  almost  makes  me  despise  you.  Are  you 
willing  to  pass  your  life  here  ?  Can  you  be  content 
to  live  in  this  poor  way — these  howling  children  sur- 
rounding you  —  in  these  stuffy  rooms  ?  You  who  are 
so,  so  — "  and  her  head  sank  on  his  arm — "you 
who  would  become  a  palace.' 


tt 


A  PARTIAL  SURRENDER. 


213 


**  And  after  death  the  judgment/*  he  said,  in  a 
husky  voice.  "  Do  you  know  the  vows  that  I  have 
taken?  Can  you  promise  me  peace  of  mind  after 
I  have  broken  them  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  boldly.  "  I  can  promise  you  more 
than  you  have  now." 

"  An  easy  promise,"  he  said,  bitterly. 

*'  Come  while  you  have  the  privilege,"  she  urged. 
"They  are  going  to  drive  you  out.  I  hear  com- 
plaints. They  say  your  manner  is  strange,  your 
words  severe.  Even  the  saintly  Mrs.  Prymmer  has 
lifted  her  voice  against  you,  and  yesterday  I  over- 
heard two  of  your  lambs.  They  spoke  of  your 
coming  to  French  Cross  and  taking  a  friendly  glass 
of  wine  with  us.  They  called  you  a  wine-bibber.  It 
makes  my  blood  boii  that  such  ignorant  creatures 
should  have  you  at  their  beck  and  call,  —  you,  who 
used  to  be  so  free." 

Her  sufferings  were  as  deep,  and  even  deeper  than 
she  described  them ;  and  making  no  attempt  at  dis- 
guise, she  dropped  her  hands  that  he  might  see  how 
distorted  was  her  own  face. 

"  Two  human  beings  on  the  rack,"  he  muttered, 
"and  we  could  so  easily  put  a  stop  to  it.  If  it 
were  not  for  the  pangs  of  conscience,  —  absence 
will  not  blot  out  remembrance.  There  are  some 
people  here  that  I  cannot  leave.  What  would  they 
say?" 


214 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


A  feeling  of  triumph  took  possession  of  her.  For- 
merly his  answers  to  her  pleadings  had  been  alto- 
gether of  his  obligations  to  his  Maker.  In  spite  of 
unhappiness,  mental  disgust,  and  seasons  of  torture, 
he  must  struggle  on,  hoping  for  light  and  a  clearer 
understanding.  Now  he  had  descended  to  the  lower 
level.  He  feared  the  voice  of  men  more  than  the 
voice  of  God. 

"  Bernal,"  she  whispered,  pleadingly. 

She  had  reached  up  and  put  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
He  did  not  love  her.  His  whole  being  was  merged 
in  his  life  and  death  struggle  for  the  losing  or  gain- 
ing of  his  soul.  Yet  she  exerted  a  strange  fascina- 
tion over  his  senses. 

"  Poor  girl,"  he  murmured,  stroking  the  hair  from 
her  hot  forehead.     "If  you  were  only  —  " 

"  If  I  were  different.  Ah,  yes,  for  your  sake,  but 
I  love  you,  Bernal,  I  love  you." 

He  could  not  repel  her.  It  was  not  in  his  nature 
to  be  unkind  to  a  woman,  and  she  spoke  truly.  She 
loved  him.  Never  again  would  he  meet  with  such 
devotion. 

"  Chelda,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  "  I  cannot  marry  you 
and  stay  here.  You  would  not  be  willing.  If  I  were 
to  give  up  this  church,  if  I  were  to  go  to  some 
other—" 

"  Never,  never,"  she  said,  vehemently.  "  You  are 
not  fitted  for   a   clerical  life.     Yqu  are   too   hi^h- 


A   PARTIAL  SURRENDER. 


215 


strung,  too  proud.  They  are  killing  you  here.  They 
would  do  the  same  elsewhere." 

He  groaned  miserably.  Had  the  time  come  for  his 
surrender }  This  fever  of  unrest  was  killing  him, 
and  if  he  persisted  in  staying  he  would  rend  his 
church  in  pieces  and  bring  dishonour  to  the  cause  of 
religion.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  his  proposal,  he  could 
never  leave  here  to  roam  from  place  to  place  in 
search  of  a  new  flock. 

"  Chelda,"  he  stammered,  "  I  will  decide  to-night. 
Give  me  a  little  further  time." 

She  pressed  her  glowing  face  against  his  arm. 
"No,  Bemal,  now,  now  —  " 

He  was  about  to  yield,  to  give  an  unconditional 
assent,  when  a  voice  came  gently  up  the  stairway, 
"  Miss  Chelda,  Miss  Chelda !  " 

The  impassioned  woman  trembled  in  her  lover's 
arms.  Always  an  interruption  from  that  persist- 
ent girl.  Some  day  she  would  be  revenged  on 
her. 

"I  must  not  keep  you,"  said  Mr.  Huntington, 
hurriedly.    "  I  will  see  you  to-morrow." 

She  v/ent  reluctantly  from  the  room,  casting  a 
backward  glance  at  him  as  he  turned  his  nervously 
working  face  to  the  window. 

"To-morrow,  to-morrow,  always  to-morrow, — 
would  to-day  never  come } "  She  passed  a  hand 
over  her  dark  features.    They  resumed  thaJr  usual 


Ill 


!l 


2l6 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


expression  of  calm  disguise,  and   she  rejoined  the 
circle  below. 

"Yes,  aunt,  I  am  ready.  Mr.  Huntington  and  I 
were  talking  theology.  I  really  think  I  must  become 
a  member  of  his  church." 

Mrs.  Negus  was  the  only  one  who  received  her 
words  with  unbounded  faith.  Miss  Gastonguay 
looked  doubtful,  Derrice  was  non-committal,  while 
Captain  White  winked  openly  at  the  hall  light. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

CAPTAIN    WHIIE   CHOOSES    A    MONUMENT. 

"  Now  if  they  were  only  like  the  two  little  nigger 
boys  that  used  to  go  to  school  with  me,  I  could 
crack  their  heads  together  and  make  them  kiss  and 
be  friends,  but  you  can't  very  well  do  that  with 
ladies,"  and,  in  comical  perplexity,  Captam  White 
surveyed  his  two  cousins,— one  genuine,  the  other 
by  adoption,  as  the  latter  quickly  withdrew  from  the 
room  on  seeing  the  former  enter  it. 

"  Hippolyta,"  he  said,  wheeling  around  upon  Mrs. 
Prymmer  as  she  established  herself  in  the  sunny 
window,  knitting  in  hand,  "that  daughter-in-law 
treats  you  very  civilly  now,  doesn't  she  ?  " 

"She  does,"  said  Mrs.  Prymmer. 

"You  haven't  anything  to  complain  of?" 
•    "No,  I  haven't." 

**  She  doesn't  make  fun  of  you  ?  " 

"No,  she  don't." 

"Then  for  the  land's  sake  why  don't  you  talk  to 
her  ? " 

817 


2l8 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


s\\ 


1" , 

J  f 

I1" 


'^  i 


I! 


Mrs.  Prymmer  calmly  began  to  set  the  heel  of 
a  sock  for  Justin.  "What  have  I  to  talk  about, 
Micah } " 

"  To  talk  about,  —  bless  my  heart,  your  tongue 
runs  fast  enough  at  other  times.  Talk  of  the 
weather,  the  fall  of  snow,  last  year's  catch  of  herring, 
—  anything  except  such  cemetery  stillness  whenever 
that  girl  is  about." 

"Well,  Micah,"  she  said,  diplomatically,  "I'll  try 
to  oblige  you,  but  it  will  be  hard  work." 

"You'll  not  try,"  he  muttered,  "you  don't  want 
to,  —  you're  the  confoundedest,  most  stubborn,  pig- 
headedest  sort  of  a  woman  I  ever  saw.  There's 
nothing  for  it  but  my  master  stroke,"  and  with  a 
happy  indrawing  of  his  breath,  he  began,  "  Hippolyta, 
do  you  know  what  I'm  thinking  of  ? " 

"  No,  Micah,"  she  said,  placidly. 

"  Well,  I'm  thinking  of  putting  up  a  monument  to 
myself." 

"  A  monument } " 

"Yes,  a  good  respectable  monument.  You  see 
I'm  alone  in  the  world.  Suppose  I  die  to-morrow, 
what  do  I  leave  to  remember  me  by  ?  " 

Mrs.  Prymmer  did  not  venture  an  answer  to  this 
question,  so  he  went  on.  "  I'd  be  wiped  out,  —  for- 
gotten. The  hands  down  at  the  sardine  factories 
would  say,  *  He  was  a  finicky  boss,  we're  glad  he's 
gone.'     Some  of  the  boys  would  remaik,  <A  queer 


CAPTAIN   WHITE   CHOOSES  A    MONUMENT.     219 

coot  that,  he  always  held  a  good  hand  at  cards,  and 
didn't  like  to  play  against  the  grain  of  the  table.* 
But  for  the  general  public,  —  now  say,  Hippolyta, 
what  would  keep  my  memory  green  with  them  ? " 

"Your  monument,"  she  said,  with  a  flash  of  in- 
spiration. 

"  Precisely ;  my  monument,  my  good,  walking, 
sober,  respectable  monument.  It  would  mourn,  and 
it  would  weep,  and  folks  would  see  that  I  was  well 
advertised." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  did  not  exactly  take  in  his  concep- 
tion of  a  walking  monument,  but  she  held  her  peace 
and  calmly  picked  up  a  dropped  stitch. 

"Now,  in  order  that  my  monument  should  be 
able  to  know  something  of  me  and  take  some  interest 
in  advertising  me  after  I'm  gone,  it's  absolutely 
necessary  that  it  should  know  something  of  me  while 
I  am  alive,  Hippolyta." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  as  indulgently  as  if  she  were 
speaking  to  a  child  whose  mind  was  taking  a  wander- 
ing and  aimless  ramble  into  unknown  fields  of  specu- 
lation. 

"Therefore,  I've  got  to  make  acquaintance  with 
it ;  it  has  got  to  make  acquaintance  with  me.  Now 
some  people —  French  people  in  particular  —  go  and 
sit  hi  their  tomb.^  and  look  at  their  coffins.  I've  no 
fancy  for  that.  Let  my  friends  attend  to  all  that 
after  I'm  gone,  but  I've  taved  a  smart  sum,  and  I've 


ii 


m\ 


iiiiiiii. 


I'" 


220 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


no  objection  to  cultivating  this  monument  a  little  bit 
while  I  live." 

"Micah,"  said  Mrs.  Prymmer,  in  a  curiou*.  voice, 
**  what  is  this  monument } " 

"  And  what  should  it  be  but  a  nice  healthy  widow  ? 
What  better  advertisement  does  a  man  want  after 
he's  gone  than  a  good  sizeable  woman  walking  into 
the  biggest  church  in  town  with  her  eyes  cast  down 
and  her  veil  streaming  after  her.?  Suppose  I'm  a 
stranger  in  a  pew,  *  Whose  widow  is  the  '  I  ask. 
'Captain  White's.'  'Who  was  Captain  White?' 
*Potts's  boss  down  at  the  sardine  factories.'  'How 
much  did  he  leave ? '  'So  much.*  '  What  kind  of  a 
fellow  was  he .? '  *  Not  bad.*  *  Tombs  and  grave- 
stones, that's  a  fine-lookhig  widow.  You'll  not 
forget  him  while  she's  about.'  Do  you  catch  on, 
Hippolyta  ? " 

She  did  catch  on.  He  had  planted  a  mine  at  her 
feet,  he  held  a  match  in  his  hand,  he  was  abou*  o 
apply  it  to  the  fuse,  and  where  would  she  be  "i 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  in  assumed  dejection,  "iv, 
order  to  have  this  monument  I've  got  to  make  it  fast 
in  my  lifetime  by  the  lashings  of  matrimony.  What 
do  you  say,  Hippolyta,  do  you  think  it  a  good 
scheme  ? " 

She  could  say  nothing,  for  she  was  in  utter  con- 
sternation. 

"And  then,"  he  continued,  reflectively,  "I've  no 


CAPTAIN  WHITE   CHOOSES  A   MONUMENT.     221 


objection  to  a  little  happiness  before  I  slip  over  the 
side  of  this  shaky  old  ship  of  Death  in  Life.  I've 
been  watching  this  son  of  yours.  He  likes  to  be 
razzled-dazzled,  and  I'd  like  to  be  razzled-dazzled, 
too,  when  I  come  home  from  the  factory  after  the 
moil  and  1  )il  of  the  day,  and  the  breakneck  work  of 
trying  to  upset  every  other  man  in  my  chase  for  that 
last  dollar.  I'd  like  to  find  a  comfortable  little  crea- 
ture ready  to  chuck  me  under  the  chin  and  say, 
*  Lovey  dovey,  you're  the  smartest  boy  of  the 
crowd.' " 

This  talk  seemed  immoral  to  Mrs.  Prymmer,  yet 
she  was  too  dazed  to  resent  it.  She  was  going  to 
lose  her  boarder,  and  her  fingers  suddenly  grew 
cold  and  nervously  unplucked  the  bars  of  her  knit- 
ting. 

"  Lawks-a-daisy  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  See  what  you're 
a-doing,  Hippolyta.  Here,  drop  that,"  and,  taking 
her  ravelled  work  from  her,  he  deposited  it  on  the 
table. 

"Micah,"  she  said,  running  her  tongue  over  her 
dry  lips,  "  Micah,  who  is  she  } " 

"This  little  monument,  —  oh,  a  snug-sized  woman 
a  thought  over  my  own  age." 

"  A  bold-faced  hussy,"  hissed  Mrs.  Prymmer. 

"Soft,  now,  sott  —  don't  be  hard  on  her.  You 
may  have  to  live  with  her,  and  she's  made  ot  the 
best  Maine  blue  black  slate,  warrant  "^d  to  outlast  any 


222 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


111 


If 


Wk 


III'' I 
I'lih' 


« 


« 


slate  in  the  world,  and  that  will  give  you  some  sharp 
notches  if  you  run  against  it." 

Mrs.  Prymmer's  lower  jaw  got  beyond  her  CQptrol, 
and  began  to  sag  hopelessly.  If  another  bride  were 
introduced  into  her  house  she  might  as  well  be  think- 
ing of  her  own  tombstone. 

"  Come,  now,  what'U  you  take  her  for } "  said  Cap- 
tain White,  waggishly.     "  Your  lowest  bid/' 

The  mention  of  money  was  a  slight  restorative. 
Twenty  dollars  apiece,"  gasped  a  cracked  voice, 
twenty  dollars  apiece." 

"  Come,  now,  Hippolyta,  that's  hard  on  her.  She'll 
be  as  mute  to  you  as  a  stained-glass  window.  She 
ain't  like  me.  She'll  never  trouble  you  coming  in 
late  at  night  or  nagging  about  her  food." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  angrily  hurled  a  boarding-house 
sentiment  at  him,  "  I'd  rather  take  twenty  men  than 
one  woman." 

"  That  don't  sound  proper,"  he  replied,  rebukingly, 
"and  shows  a  staggering  amount  of  ignorance  of 
men-critters.  Why,  if  you  knew  the  badness  of  me, 
for  example,  you'd  turn  me  out  of  your  house  to- 
morrow." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  she  said,  stoutly. 

"  It's  true,  Hippolyta.  If  you  knew  what  diaboli- 
cal, heathenish  things  men  are  up  to  you'd  scream 
from  morning  to  night,  and  only  stop  long  enough 
to  take  refreshments." 


CAPTAIN   WHITE   CI'^?CES  A  MONUMENT.     223 


Again  her  husky  voice  assured  him  that  she  didn't 
believe  him. 

"  Do  you  believe  the  newspapers  ? " 

She  told  him  that  she  did. 

"  Who  writes  all  those  awful  things  ? " 

She  did  not  answer,  and  he  exclaimed,  triumphantly, 
"  Men,  —  men  write  'em,  men  do  *em,  and  worse 
things,  —  things  so  hair-lifting  that  they  dassent  pub- 
lish 'em.  If  I  could  reveal  to  you  the  secrets  of  this 
here  breast,"  and  he  struck  himself  a  smart  blow 
on  the  chest,  and  looked  fearfully  over  his  shoul- 
der, "  you  could  keep  me  from  ever  raising  a  monu- 
ment to  myself,  for  they'd  have  me  shut  up  in  a 
place  where  they'd  never  let  me  out  to  choose  one." 

"  Micah,"  she  said,  with  a  shriek,  "  get  out !  I'm 
afraid  of  you,"  and  she  retreated  precipitately  from 
bin  toward  the  table,  where  she  dropped  into  a 
ciiair. 

A  sudden  change  came  over  her  companion.  He 
struck  an  attitude  of  exaggerated  admiration,  and 
exclaimed,  "  Hippolyta,  you  might  go  on  the  stage, 
^-  I  never  saw  such  acting." 

In  fascinated  confusion  she  stared  speechlessly  at 
him. 

"You're  an  astonishing  woman,"  he  cried,  skip- 
ping to  the  hearth-rug,  and  extending  both  hands 
toward  her.     "I  never  saw  such  nerve,  such  cool- 


ness. 


» 


m 
11 

I 


,  :i 


wm 


§m 


m 


iil 

1 11  r  I 


hi 


If 


m 


1: 


I'i! 


224 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


She  looked  in  her  lap  for  her  knitting,  and  seeing 
it  was  not  there  picked  rashly  at  her  apron. 

"  For,"  he  went  on,  with  a  final  flourish,  "  bad  as 
I  am,  black  as  are  my  vices,  they  are  a  pale  cream- 
colour  besidt,  yours,  for  there  is  one  crime  I  have 
not  dared  to  commit,  and  it  lies  light  as  a  feather  on 
your  soul. 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  what  crime  it  is  ? "  he  in- 
quired, after  a  short  period  of  silence. 

She  replied  convulsively  that  she  didn't  want  to 
know. 

"  But  you've  got  to  know.  It's  for  the  good  of 
your  soul.  Hold  up  your  head  now,  and  I'll  whisper 
it  in  your  ear.  It  isn't  a  word  for  housetop  use," 
and,  creeping  close  to  her,  he  uttered  a  ghostly 
«  Murder ! " 

She  opened  her  mouth  to  scream,  but  no  sound 
came  from  it,  and  in  terrified,  fascinated  speechless- 
ness she  began  slowly  backing  away  from  him, 
propelling  her  chair  on  its  hind  legs  around  the 
table  and  followed  by  him  airily  perched  on  an- 
other. 

Micah  had  gone  crazy.  There  was  no  doubt  about 
it.  He  had  no  thought  of  marriage.  Her  best  plan 
was  to  escape  from  the  room  without  irritating  him. 
Now  he  was  silly,  and,  with  his  head  on  one  side,  was 
speaking  in  a  foolish  voice,  "Cousin  Hippolyta, 
who  sits  behind  the  parlour  window  curtains,  pre- 


CAPTAm  WHITE  CHOOSES  A  MONUMENT.     22$ 


it 


<( 


tending  to   knit,  and  casting   sly  looks  at  the  old 
widowers  and  bachelors  as  they  go  by  ? " 

These  were  pretty  sane  words  for  an  insane  man, 
for  they  described  her  favourite  occupation,  and  she 
blushed  slightly  as  she  looked  j:  -ay  from  him. 

"  Who  counts  'em  up  head  by  head,"  he  went  on, 
remorselessly,  "  and  reckons  up  chances  of  marriage. 
Who  makes  eyes  at  the  old  men,  Hippolyta  ?  " 

Hold  your  tongue,  Micah,"  she  said,  hysterically. 
Who  goes  further  than  that  ?  "  he  inquired,  in  a 
voice  so  low  that  it  dropped  into  an  accusing  growl. 
"  Who  has  a  prime  favourite  among  the  old  men  ? 
Who  forgets  what  the  good  Book  says  about,  *  She 
that  looketh  on  a  man  and  planneth  on  his  sick  wife's 
death  is  a  murderess  in  her  heart.* " 

At  this  merciless  exposure  of  the  most  hidden 
secret  of  her  breast,  scarcely  breathed  even  to  herself, 
Mrs.  Prymmer  collapsed.  In  her  progress  around 
the  table  she  had  reached  the  point  she  started  from. 
Here  the  upper  part  of  hs^  body  subsided  in  a  heap 
on  the  table,  ana  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

"  Good  girl,"  said  Captain  White,  patting  the  back 
.of  her  head.  "I've  been  wanting  to  see  you  do  this 
for  many  a  day.  There's  nothing  so  improving  as  to 
get  down  in  the  gutter  with  the  rest  of  mankind. 
You've  been  too  stuck  on  your  own  virtues,  Hip- 
polyta." 

She  continued  to  wjep,  and  finally,  to  sob  bitterly. 


f, 


26 


DEPICIEMT  SAINTS. 


mi 

III 
If 

iH||i 


and  he  changed  the  tone  of  his  advice.  "  Hush  up, 
now,  hush  up.  You  can't  help  your  thoughts  run- 
ning ahead  to  old  Deacon  Turner's  widowship.  His 
wife  has  got  to  die.  All  the  doctors  say  so,  and  the 
woman  hasn't  got  sprawl  enough  to  live  after  that. 
And  you  needn't  bother  with  the  old  deacon.  Here's 
a  ready-made  bachelor  jusi  to  hand.  It  knocks  me 
silly  to  think,  with  your  nuptial  inclinations,  you've 
never  singled  me  out.  You  never  thought  of  me, 
because  I  was  your  cousin.  But  it's  quite  fashion- 
able to  marry  your  cousin,  especially  in  English 
ports.  Hush  up,  now,  Hippy,  hush  up,  I've  got 
something  to  tell  you." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  would  not  hush  up.  No  one  had 
ever  taV:ed  to  her  like  this.  He  had  shattered  the 
very  foundations  of  her  self-righteousness,  and  had 
reduced  her  to  the  lowest  depths  of  humility.  She 
felt  as  if  she  could  never  lift  her  head  again. 

"Well, then,  go  on,"  he  said,  agreeably,  " but  keep 
one  ear  open  for  what  I'm  going  to  say.  I've  got  my 
weather  eye  open  in  the  Turne:  direction,  and  I'm 
not  going  to  let  that  old  man  dash  in  ahead  of  me. 
And  you're  so  everlasting  quick  in  your  matrimonial 
didoes  that  I've  got  to  catch  opportunity's  forelock. 
Twice  you've  got  ahead  of  me  and  made  me  mad, 
though  I  didn't  blame  you  so  much  for  jumping  at 
Sylvester  Mercer,  for  you  were  young  and  giddy. 
But  you  showed  a  most  ugly  haste  in  flirting  your 


CAPTAIN  WHITE  CHOOSES  A  MONUMENT.     ^2/ 

widow's  veil  at  old  Zebedee  Prymmer.  Bad  luck  to 
him,  he  encouraged  you —  Don't  stick  out  your 
hand ;  I'll  run  him  down  all  I  like,  —  a  low,  base 
cotton-seed  imitation  of  genuine  olive  oil,  singing  in 
his  silky  voice  about  *  mansions  in  the  skies,*  and 
then  coming  out  of  prayer-meeting  to  cheat  his 
neighbours  like  a  house  afire.  Folks  say  to  speak 
no  evil  of  the  dead.  I  say,  give  it  to  *em.  Hold  'em 
up  and  rake  and  rattle  *em.  They're  where  you  can't 
harm  'em,  and  you  may  benefit  the  living.  Spare 
the  living,  I  say,  but  rap  the  dead  over  the  knuckles 
if  they  have  deserved  it.  Hippolyta,  will  you  be  my 
little  monument  ? " 

Her  portly  frame  trembled,  and  she  turned  her 
swollen,  comely  face  toward  him,  in  dazed  inquir}'. 

"Yes,  it's  you  I  want  to  represent  me  after  I'm 
gone,"  he  said,  affectionately  stroking  her  hand. 
"  You,  with  all  your  faults.  My  fancy  has  run  after 
you  ever  since  you  were  a  dumpling  of  a  girl,  with 
your  hair  switching  down  your  back,  and  I'm  not 
going  to  lose  you  a  third  time.  I'm  sorry  you've 
had  such  a  long  spell  of  this  confounded  hypocrite 
business,  but  I'll  knock  it  all  out  of  you.  A  little 
trip  around  the  world,  and  a  little  taste  of  a  few 
devilries,  will  rrake  you  have  more  pity  for  your 
fellow  creatures,  and  you'll  save  your  own  soul 
quicker  than  you're  likely  to  do  now.  You've  always 
pretended  to  be  religious,  Hippolyta.     You've  never 


228 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


>!  I 


enjoyed  it,  you  want  to  be  converted  all  over  again. 
It's  hateful,  narrow-minded  saints  like  you  that  keep 
broad-minded  sinners  like  me  out  of  the  kingdom. 
Do  you  suppose  I'd  go  into  a  church  with  such  as 
you  }  —  not  by  a  long  shot.  You've  got  to  be  made 
over.  I'll  help  you  sow  some  wild  oats,  and  in  the 
act  of  reaping  maybe  you'll  repent." 

Mrs.  Prymmer  could  not  answer  him,  neither  could 
she  lift  her  head  from  the  table.  Hov/ever,  the 
sense  of  what  he  said  pierced  her  clouded  brain,  and 
she  faintly  returned  the  pressure  of  his  hand. 

"  That  old  Prymmer  spoiled  you,"  he  muttered, 
wrathfully.  "You  didn't  put  on  half  as  much  till 
you  married  him.  Listen,  Hippy,  till  I  tell  you  the 
way  he  was  converted.  The  old  fellow  was  rather 
ashamed  of  it  himself,  because  it  was  old-timey,  but 
I  got  it  from  a  lumberman  back  in  the  woods.  You 
remember  hearing  of  the  time  the  New  Lights  came 
in  and  stirred  up  the  Congregationalists } " 

Mrs.  Prymmer  moved  her  head. 

"Well,  old  Father  Bronson,  raging  through  the 
woods  like  a  converted  bear  and  doing  lots  of  good, 
be  it  understood,  came  upon  Zebedee  Prymmer' s 
father's  log  house.  He  talked  conversion  and  dam- 
nation, and  clutching  up  young  Zeb  held  his  little 
squirming  carcass  over  the  open  fire  and  asked  him 
how  he  would  like  to  roast  in  the  bad  place.  Young 
Zebedee  naturally  said  he  would  prefer  not  to,  and 


CAPTAIN  WHITE   CHOOSES  A   MONUMENT.     229 

then  the  rascal  thought  he  was  converted,  though 
Father  Bronson  never  told  him  so.  Now  that's  the 
way  you've  been  frightened  out  of  your  seven  senses. 
You  don't  want  to  roast,  but  bless  you,  Hippy,  that 
ain't  conversion.  You  want  a  gentle  spirit  like  you^ 
daughter-in-law  Derrice,  and  your  son  Justin.  Do 
you  suppose  he  could  stand  your  naggings  if  he 
warn't  a  Christian  }  Not  a  bit  of  it,  —  go  on  now, 
and  try  to  be  a  proper  one.  I'd  like  some  religion, 
too.  Good  life,  —  it's  all  we've  got  here  below  that's 
worth  having,  except  a  little  love  from  some  crea- 
ture —     Hippy,  you'll  be  my  little  monument  > " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  murmured,  feebly,  "  but,  Micah, 
maybe  I'll  go  first." 

"Then  I'll  be  yours,"  he  said,  cheerfully.  "But 
bless  you,  widows  never  die.  Come  on  down-town, 
Hippy,  and  we'll  choose  the  ring." 

"  Micah,  I  couldn't  walk.  My  limbs  are  as  weak 
as  wool.     I  guess  I'll  go  to  bed." 

"All  right.  Hippy,"  he  said,  "but  don't  go  so  far 
in  your  humility  that  you'll  get  the  pins  knocked  out 
from  under  you.  I  didn't  start  to  do  that.  Cheer 
up,  you've  got  a  soft  spot  somewhere.  You'll  be  a 
saint  yet  and  wear  a  crown  with  seven  stars,"  and  he 
gallantly  escorted  her  to  the  staircase,  admonishing 
her  to  tell  no  one  the  subject  of  their  conversation. 


CHAPTER   XVITI. 


A   STEP   IN    ADVANCE. 


m 


!!ll 
^ 


■^  w 


b 


A  WEEK  or  two  went  by,  and  all  who  came  within 
the  circle  of  Mrs.  Prymmer's  influence  noticed  a 
change  in  her,  although  not  one  of  her  friends  or 
relatives  ascribed  the  change  to  its  re       ause. 

She  was  softened,  humbled,  and  qui^t,  and  Justin, 
in  the  midst  of  his  perusal  of  the  evening  paper, 
would  often  hold  it  aside  and  look  at  her  with  a 
puzzled  face. 

One  day  the  enlightenment  came,  precipitated  by 
an  attack  of  nightmare  on  the  part  of  Captain 
White. 

One  hour  after  midnight  the  family  was  alarmed 
by  a  frantic  screaming  and  a  sound  of  running  feet. 
Justin  and  his  wife,  Mary,  and  nervous  and  shrieking 
Mrs.  Prymmer  rushed  to  the  doors  of  their  respec- 
tive bedrooms,  and  found  the  curious  spectacle 
presented  to  them  of  a  figure  clad  in  white  running, 
darting,  leaping,  kicking  up  its  heels,  and  apparently 

trying  to  scale  the  wall  of  the  lower  hail. 

830 


A  STEP  IN  ADVANCE. 


231 


"  Micah,"  called  Justin,  "  what  is  the  matter  with 
you  ?     Come  back  to  bed." 

"  He's  in  his  bare  feet,"  cried  Mrs.  Prymmer,  tear- 
fully, leaning  over  the  banisters.  "  Go  down  to  him, 
Justin.     He'll  catch  his  death  of  cold." 

As  his  relative  showed  no  signs  of  abating  his 
extraoidinary  gymnastic  performances,  Justin  was 
obliged  to  go  down,  and  the  feminine  portion  of  the 
family  hurriedly  retreated  behind  doors  as  the  dis- 
tracted man  was  led  up-stairs. 

Justin  found  him  trembling  violently  and  dripping 
with  perspiration.  "  What  has  got  into  you, 
Micah } "  he  said. 

"  Nightmare,  boy,  nightmare,"  replied  Captain 
White,  sinking  in  a  heap  on  his  bed.  "  Haven't  had 
such  a  thing  since  I  was  a  boy,  and  used  to  dream 
every  night  that  the  devil  had  got  me." 

"  Was  he  after  you  to-night } " 

"No,  boy,  no,"  and  Captain  White  laid  his  ex- 
hausted head  on  the  pillow.  "It  was  a  nameless 
horror.  I  don't  know  what  it  was.  Don't  leave  me 
for  awhile." 

Justin  had  never  before  seen  his  composed  relative 
in  so  disordered  a  state,  and  in  quiet  sympathy  he 
sat  down  beside  him. 

Captain  White  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  then  he 
started  up  in  bed  and  shook  his  fist  at  some  invisible 
enemy.     "  I'm  blest  if  I  let  this  happen  again." 


232 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


'''Mm 


ii;M. 


"  What  did  you  say,  Micah  ? "  inquired  Justin. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  replied  the  elder  man,  eva- 
sively. "  You  can  go  now,  I'll  not  fall  asleep  again. 
I've  got  some  plans  to  lay  for  to-morrow." 

Justin  thought  no  more  of  these  plans  until  he  was 
leaving  the  breakfast-table,  when  Captain  White 
coolly  observed  that  at  eleven  o'clock  he  was  going 
to  take  the  train  for  Bangor  and  he  would  like  his 
cousin  Hippol}^a  to  go  with  him. 

Justin  turned  around  in  surprise.  Mrs.  Prymmer 
blushed  and  hung  her  head,  and  Derrice,  with  a 
woman's  wit,  at  once  guessed  the  situation  of  affairs 
and  had  much  ado  to  keep  from  laughing. 

"  Yes,  I'd  like  her  to  go  along  with  me,"  said 
Captain  White,  "  there  is  a  little  business  transac- 
tion I  want  her  to  figure  in." 

Still  Justin  did  not  understand,  and  Derrice  had 
to  come  to  his  relief.  "  Don't  you  see,  you  stupid 
boy,"  she  whispered,  "  they're  going  to  be  married." 

Justin  was  thundei  struck.  If  Captain  White  had 
proposed  to  marry  Miss  Gastonguay,  or  one  of  the 
rich  and  haughty  Misses  Potts,  he  could  not  so  thor- 
oughly have  lost  his  composure. 

"  Say  something,  dear,"  prompted  Derrice.  For 
a  minute  he  could  not  speak  ;  then,  with  a  ludicrous 
resemblance  to  his  mother  in  her  moments  of  em- 
barrassment, he  stammered  that  he  hoped  they  had 
considered  well  the  step  they  were  about  to  take. 


A  STEP  IN  ADVANCE. 


233 


"  I've  considered  it  for  nearly  forty  years,"  said 
Captain  White,  shortly,  "  but  never  got  further  than 
consideration,  the  party  not  being  open  to  proposals." 

Derrice  turned  to  her  mother-in-law  and  impul- 
sively threw  her  arms  around  her  neck.  **  He  is  a 
dear  good  man,  and  will  make  you  as  happy  as  the 
day  is  long."  Then,  to  Captain  White's  secret  de- 
light, she  shook  hands  with  him,  and  shyly  offered 
her  cheek  for  him  to  kiss.  "  I  had  rather  have 
you  than  any  one  for  a  father-in-law." 

"Come,  Hippolyta,  we  must  start,"  said  her 
fianc6.  "  Justin  will  find  his  tongue  by  the  time  we 
get  back." 

"  He  has  found  it  now,"  said  Justin,  firmly,  "  and 
he  bids  you  Godspeed." 

"  I  guess  we  can  go  on  with  that  clerical  blessing," 
observed  Captain  White.  "Now,  Hippolyta,  run 
up-stairs  and  get  into  that  black  silk  of  yours." 

"  You  don't  care  to  be  married  here  }  "  said  Derrice. 

"Not  by  that  clip  next  door,"  replied  Captain 
White,  "  and  then  the  boys  would  roast  me  to  death. 
Hippolyta  and  I  will  keep  out  of  the  place  for  a 
week  or  two,  and  don't  let  'em  know  when  we're 
coming  back.     Good-bye." 

Derrice  and  her  husband  stood  in  the  doorway  and 
watched  them  depart  With  ready  adaptability,  she 
declared  they  would  find  the  new  state  of  affairs  a 
vast  improvement  on  the  old.     With  more  worldly 


234 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


ill 


:nif 


il-lf'M 


I 


K; 


1:^ 

III;. 

Ill  I 

lli^ 


wisdom,  and  with  a  strange  sense  of  having  lost 
some  valued  possession,  Justin  shook  his  head  and 
foresaw  that  the  change  meant  a  new  master  for  the 
house,  and  the  consequent  removal  of  himself  and 
his  wife.  And  yet  he  was  deeply  attached  to  his 
cousin  Micah,  who  certainly  had  a  wonderful  and 
beneficial  influence  over  his  mother.  It  was  all  for 
the  best.  He  was  glad  and  thankful,  and  yet  he 
went  to  the  bank  with  a  drooping  head. 

Derrice  darted  into  the  parsonage  and  imparted 
her  news  with  a  most  gratifying  and  electrical  effect 
to  Mrs.  Negus,  who  sat  alone  in  the  parlour  over  a 
basket  of  torn  stockings. 

After  a  time,  and  when  they  had  fully  discussed  all 
phases  of  this  surprising  occurrence,  Derrice  seized 
a  darning-needle  and  a  ball  of  wool,  and  made  haste 
to  assist  her  busy  neighbour.  Then  her  thoughts  re- 
verted to  the  condition  in  which  she  had  found  her. 
"  Dear  Mrs.  Negus,"  she  said,  softly,  "  you  were 
crying  whin  I  came  in.  I  have  never  seen  tears  in 
your  eyes  before." 

"They  are  not  often  there,"  said  the  little  lady, 
taking  off  her  glasses  and  wiping  them,  "but  I  am 
sick  at  heait,  dear." 

"About  Mr.  Huntington,"  said  Derrice,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Yes,  dear." 

For  some  time  they  kept  to  their  work  in  silence, 


A  STEP  IN  ADVANCE. 


235 


then  Derrice  spoke  again.  "Is  there  anything  we 
can  do  ? " 

"  I  have  thought  of  talking  to  your  husband,  but 
perhaps  I  had  better  leave  it  to  you.  I'll  tell  you 
how  things  stand.  I  have  made  such  a  mistake,  — 
such  a  mistake,"  and  her  lips  quivered  so  convul- 
sively that  she  could  hardly  articulate. 

"We  all  make  mistakes." 

"Yes,  dear,  but  this  was  such  a  stupid  one.  I 
have  made  mistakes  all  my  life,  and  I  have  said, 
•  Help  me.  Lord,  not  to  make  this  one  again,'  and 
he  does  help  me,  but  I  tumble  into  a  new  one.  I 
will  never  be  fit  to  live,  till  I  am  ready  to  die." 

"  You  dear  little  woman,  you  sha'n't  talk  that  way 
about  yourself.  Why,  the  whole  town  considers  you 
a  saint.  Didn't  you  leave  your  rich  family  and 
marry  a  poor  clergyman,  and,  not  content  with  bring- 
ing up  your  children  well,  you  just  set  to  work  to 
bring  up  another  family  of  orphans,  and  have  been 
so  sweet  and  good  that  everybody  helps  you,  and 
your  relatives  give  you  money  —  " 

Derrice  stopped,  choked  by  her  volubility,  and 
Mrs.  Negus  ejaculated,  "  It  is  nothing,  nothing,  if  I 
could  only  help  this  one  soul." 

"Don't  cry,  please  tell  me  about  it.  Perhaps  Jus- 
tin can  assist,  he  is  so  clever." 

The  little  lady  dried  her  tears,  and,  speaking 
rapidly,  for  she  was  at  all  times  subject  to  an  irrup- 


236 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


nml 


II  V 


tion  of  children,  began  :  "He  is  so  handsome,  and 
such  an  attraction  for  the  girls,  that  I  thought  it 
would  be  well  to  have  him  married.  Chelda  Gaston- 
guay  fancied  him,  —  I  knew  it  from  the  way  in 
which  she  began  to  pay  me  attention,  and  I  encour- 
aged her,  for  I  thought,  Here  is  a  girl  who  will  have 
plenty  of  money.  She  will  be  able  to  give  him  com- 
forts he  has  always  been  used  to,  and  that  he  will  never 
get  on  his  small  salary.  True,  she  was  not  con  veiled, 
but  she  began  coming  to  church,  and  I  thought  she 
soon  would  be,  for  she  would  not  be  able  to  with« 
stand  his  burning,  loving  words.  My  dear,  I  must 
not  be  uncharitable,  but  I  fear  hers  is  a  deadly  love. 
I  have  studied  her,  and  I  see  that  from  the  first  she 
deliberately  chose  that  man  for  herself.  She  set  her- 
self to  weaken  his  religious  life,  to  turn  him  against 
his  people,  and  to  lead  him  back  to  the  life  he  once 
led.  He  could  not  be  unkind  to  a  woman,  —  that  is, 
what  he  calls  unkind,  —  and  he  has  let  her  go  on  in- 
stead of  sending  her  to  the  right-about.  She  is  very 
clever.  I  am  so  frightened  of  her  that  I  tremble 
when  she  comes  slipping  into  the  house.  I  over- 
heard her  the  other  day,  —  she  wants  him  to  give 
up  his  church  and  marry  her  and  go  away." 

"  How  dreadful !  " 

"  And  worse  than  that,  the  love  is  mostly  on  her 
side.  She  was  petting  and  coaxing  him.  I  was 
going  through  the  hall  and  the  study  door  was  open. 


A  STEP  IN  ADVANCE. 


237 


She  thought  I  was  out,  but  I  wasn't,  and  I  stopped 
as  if  I  had  been  paralysed.  He  would  fling  himself 
away  and  she  would  come  back,  with  her  wheedling 
v/ays." 

"  Would  she  do  that  ? "  said  Derrice,  angrily.  "  Oh, 
how  could  she  ?     Has  she  no  pride  ?  " 

"  She  is  mad  about  him,  and  when  a  woman  loses 
her  head  about  a  man  she  will  do  anything." 

"  I  would  not  have  her  come  here.  I  would  forbid 
her  the  house." 

"  The  next  time  she  comes  I  must  talk  to  her.  I 
dread  it,  but  it  is  my  duty.  If  she  would  only  let 
him  alone  for  a  time  he  might  recover  himself." 

"He  is  a  coward,  —  I  have  no  respect  for  him." 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  we  all  have  our  temptations.  We 
must  not  be  hard  on  each  other.  My  poor  boy  is 
broken-hearted.  I  knew  weeks  ago  that  he  was  dis- 
couraged about  himself,  but  I  did  not  know  what  ii 
was.  I  thought  he  was  too  sensitive,  and  I  would 
not  let  him  talk  to  me.  Yesterday  afternoon  I  went 
to  him,  —  poor  boy,  poor  boy  !  He  has  tried  to  save 
others,  and  he  is  not  saved  himself.  ITe  says  his 
heart  has  never  been  touched.  After  the  shock  of 
his  friend's  death  he  made  up  his  mind  to  lead  a 
better  life.  With  grim  determination  he  entered  the 
ministry,  but  he  had  not  the  power  to  endure.  He 
has  not  been  born  again,  —  until  his  whole  soul  n. 
stirred  by  divine  grace  he  will-  not  be  happy." 


li 


«f.i 


iitib- 


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t'-i! 


m'% 


<tj 


¥  '■  '.'i 


538 


DkPICTENT  SAWT3. 


"  She  is  a  wicked  woman  to  tempt  him." 

"  Pity  her,  too,  dear.  She  has  lived  only  for  her 
own  gratification,  and  though  she  has  had  many 
admirers  she  has  been  cold-hearted." 

"  He  ought  to  go  away." 

"Yes;  I  said  that  to  him  yesterday,  but  he  is 
torn  by  misgivings.  This  church  is  his  last  hold  on 
spiritual  life.  The  instant  he  gives  it  up  that  girl 
will  marry  him.  I  dread  to  see  him  rise  in  the 
pulpit  now.  I  fear  he  will  cry  out  that  he  is  a 
hypocrite." 

"That  would  be  honest." 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  he  thinks  of  the  young  trembling 
souls  and  hesitates.  Many  have  entered  the  church 
truly  saved  by  his  faithful  ministrations ;  should  he 
proclaim  himself  unsaved,  they  will  say,  *  Then  where 
are  we } '  " 

"  What  do  you  advise,  then  } " 

"He  is  going  away,  he  says  that  himself,  but  if 
we  could  only  get  him  off  quietly.  If  some  one  could 
go  with  him.  He  is  not  fit  to  be  alone.  He  walks 
his  floor  at  night  and  groans  —  " 

"  I  will  tell  Justin  at  once.  This  must  be  attended 
to,"  said  Derrice.  "  I  know  he  will  find  a  way  out. 
Now  what  can  I  do  to  help  you  ?  I  have  finished 
these  stockings.  Ah,  there  is  the  baby  crying.  I 
will  go  take  him  up,"  and  she  ran  up-stairs. 

Derrice  was  alone  with  her  husband  at  dinner- 


A  STEP  IN  ADVANCE. 


239 


time.  In  rather  deeper  gravity  than  usual  he 
watched  her  presiding  in  his  mother's  place.  How 
dear  that  mother  was  to  him  in  spite  of  her  failings, 
and  he  hurriedly  began  a  conversation  in  order  to 
forget  the  tug  at  his  heart-strings. 

Derrice  over  dessert  told  him  what  Mrs.  Negus  had 
said. 

"I  am  not  surprised,"  he  remarked.  "I  would 
have  helped  him  before,  if  I  had  had  any  assurance 
that  I  would  have  been  of  assistance.  Now  the  time 
has  come,"  and  instead  of  going  to  the  bank  he  went 
to  the  house  next  door. 

Mr.  Huntington  was  just  going  out,  but  on  seeing 
Justin  he  turned  back  and  preceded  him  to  his  study. 
Then  he  closed  the  door  and  confronted  him.  His 
face  was  worn  and  there  were  dark  circles  under  his 
eyes.  He  had  the  appearance  of  a  man  on  the  verge 
of  a  serious  illness,  and  yet  Justin  had  never  before 
been  so  struck  by  his  remarkable  physical  beauty. 
Possibly  this  effect  was  aided  by  his  involuntary 
pathos  of  expression.  He  had  no  idea  that  he  was 
appealing  to  his  junior  deacon,  that  the  look  in  his 
.fine  brown  eyes  was  like  that  of  an  intelligent 
and  beautiful  dumb  creature  about  to  receive  a 
blow. 

Justin  saw  it  and  was  profoundly  touched.  This 
was  no  time  for  exhortation  nor  for  reproof,  but  it 
certainly  was  a  time  for  consolation  from  man  to 


u^ 


bEPlCiENT  SAINTS. 


P|!'i 
■I  ;  :'  II 


Hi 


Jii|i!:i ''  1' 


man.  Bernal  Huntington  had  had  feminine  sym- 
pathy. He  now  craved  recognition  from  a  member 
of  his  own  sex. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  come  from  the  church,"  he 
said. 

Justin  shook  his  head. 

"I  have  expected  you  for  some  time,"  said  Mr. 
Huntington,  wearily,  "you  who  ought  to  be  pastor, 
and  I  your  henchman.  It  is  to  you  the  people  now 
go  for  spiritual  help.  I  am  not  jealous,  I  assure  you. 
Come,  —  you  have  some  message  from  your  brother 
deacons.     They  wish  me  to  resign." 

"  I  am  no  formally  appointed  messenger,  yet,  now 
that  you  mention  the  brethren  with  whom  I  am 
associated,  I  may  say  that,  although  we  have  had  no 
consultation,  I  know  every  one  of  them  recognises 
the  fact  that  you  are  troubled  and  out  of  health. 
Every  one  of  them  would  be  pleased  to  see  you  take 
a  brief  holiday.  You  have  served  us  faithfully  so 
far, — no  formal  complaint  is  made  as  yet.  On  the 
contrary,  you  have  our  deepest  sympathy,  and  I  can 
assure  you  in  all  sincerity  that,  in  times  wl^en  you 
may  feel  yourself  alone,  there  are  interested  hearts 
watching  your  struggles  and  praying  for  your  happy 
issue  out  of  them." 

The  young  man  put  out  his  hand  and  gripped 
Justin's.     "  You  understand  ? " 

"  I   understand,"    said   Justin.     "  May  God   help 


T^'- 


^p*^ 


A   STEP  IN  ADVANCE. 


241 


you,  my  dear  brother.  I  am  going  to  Boston  to-night. 
Will  you  go  with  me  ? " 

Mr.  Huntington  suddenly  turned  from  him  and  hid 
his  face  against  the  rows  of  musty  books  on  the 
wall. 

"  It  was  such  a  good  man  that  used  to  tenant  this 
room,"  said  Justin,  softly.  "I  can  imagine  him 
grieving  with  you  in  your  perplexities.  You  will 
give  me  the  pleasure  of  your  company  to-night } " 

"I  will,"  said  his  companion,  in  a  choked  voice. 
"  You  are  going  purposely  to  take  me  —  How  can  I 
thank  you  ? "  and  he  groped  blindly  for  the  friendly 
palm  that  he  knew  was  once  more  outstretched 
toward  him. 

Justin  went  quietly  down-stairs  and  told  the  agi- 
tated Mrs.  Negus  that  the  clergyman  was  going  on 
a  short  trip  to  Boston  with  him,  then,  returning  to 
his  own  home,  he  broke  the  news  to  Derrice. 

"  What  —  really  going  ? "  she  said,  growing  quite 
pale  and  cold. 

"  Yes,  darling ;  why  are  you  so  disturbed  "*  It  is 
wu^t  you  wished.  I  am  sorry  that  it  is  not  expedient 
to  take  you." 

"  Going  away,"  she  reiterated ;  "  that  means  not 
coming  back." 

"  My  dear  girl,  what  are  you  thinking  about  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  you,  not  you,  —  but  that  poor  girl,  what 
will  she  do  ?    If  he  has  reached  the  point  of  going 


^42 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


away,  she  will  see  that  it  means  a  parting  for  ever. 
Suppose  I  were  in  her  place,  Justin,  and  you  in  Mr. 
Huntington's." 

"So  this  suffering  is  vicarious;  well,  you  must 
try  to  comfort  her,  and  let  me  suggest  that  it  be  not 
done  openly,  but  in  some  of  the  subtle,  sweet  ways 
known  to  your  sex.  And  Mrs.  Negus  invites  you  to 
stay  with  her  while  I  am  gone." 

Derrice  still  remained  pale  and  cold  in  spite  of  all 
her  hr.sband  could  say  to  comfort  her.  With  a  pas- 
sionate introspecti'^n,  she  comprehended  the  depths 
of  suffering  awaiting  the  unhappy  Chelda. 


CHAPTER   XIX.  . 


THE   CHURCH   OF   THE    UNITED    BRETHREN    LOSES    ITS 

PASTOR. 

Up  at  French  Cross  Miss  Gastonguay  was  playing 
dominoes  with  Aurelia  Sinclair,  who  could  never  be 
induced  to  engage  in  a  game  of  cards. 

Chelda  sat  at  a  little  distance,  her  hands  folded  in 
her  lap,  a  far-away  look  in  her  eyes. 

Presently  Miss  Gastonguay  good-humouredly  ad- 
dressed her.  "You  appear  so  still,  child,  that  I 
guess  you  must  be  restless.  Did  you  expect  any 
one  this  evening }  " 

"  No,  aunt." 

"  I  thought  Mr.  Huntington  said  he  would  be  up," 
observed  Aurelia,  timidly. 

One  of  Chelda's  peculiarities  was  a  most  Indian- 
like unsmilingness.  However,  at  this  remark,  she 
favoured  her  guest  with  her  nearest  approach  to  an 
amused  contraction  of  her  features. 

"  What   do  you  want,  Prosperity  ? "   asked  Miss 

Gastonguay,  pointing  a  double-six  domino  at  him  as 

he  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

243 


244 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"Miss  Chelda,  ma'am.  The  old  black  woman 
from  the  parsonage  would  like  to  see  her." 

Chelda  rose,  and  walked  carelessly  to  a  small  recep- 
tion-room off  the  hall.  She  only  stayed  a  short 
time,  and,  on  coming  back,  twirled  a  small  note  in 
her  fingers,  and  sank  into  her  former  seat. 

"  There  is  no  one  ill  at  the  parsonage,  is  there } " 
asked  Miss  Gastonguay. 

"  No,  aunt.  —  Mr.  Huntington  has  gone  to  Boston. 
Aurelia  was  right.  He  did  speak  of  coming  here 
this  evening,  and  has  written  a  line  to  explain  his 
non-appearance. " 

"  This  is  surely  very  sudden,"  said  Miss  Gaston- 
guay, curiously.     "  What  does  he  say }  " 

"  You  may  read  the  note." 

"  Read  it  to  me,  child,  I  haven't  my  glasses." 

"  *  Dear  Miss  Chelda  :  —  I  am  leaving  for  Boston 
with  Mr.  Mercer.  I  will  write  from  there  and  ex- 
press my  regret  at  not  seeing  you  and  your  aunt. 

"/Yours  truly,  B.  H.'" 


"  Very  abrupt,"  remarked  Miss  Gastonguay,  "  and 
very  much  in  the  nature  of  a  farewell.  Do  you  sup- 
pose he  is  not  coming  back  }  Taking  Justin  Mercer 
with  him  looks  like  it.  That  worthy  young  man  may 
want  to  convey  his  body  around  the  world  by  way  of 
doing  good  to  his  soul." 


THE  CHURCH  LOSES  ITS  PASTOR. 


245 


Chelda  did  not  venture  any  supposition  of  her  own. 
She  stared  curiously  at  Aurelia,  whose  face  had  gone 
from  crimson  to  a  deathly  pallor. 

Miss  Gastonguay's  anxious  and  critical  attention 
was  diverted  from  her  niece.  "  Good  gracious  ! " 
she  exclaimed,  "  the  girl  is  going  to  faint." 

Before  she  finished  her  sentence  Aurelia  had 
fainted,  and  falling  forward  crashed  the  inlaid  dom- 
ino table  to  the  floor,  and  broke  a  portion  of  its 
dainty  top. 

"Here,  Prosperity,"  called  Miss  Gastonguay, 
"  some  water  quick,  —  and  take  that  table  away  so 
she  won't  see  it.  Bother  the  girl,  why  doesn't  she 
pray  and  fast  less  and  eat  more,  so  as  to  keep 
strength  in  her  body." 

In  a  few  minutes  Aurelia  revived,  and  in  a  pitiful, 
trembling  voice  apologised  for  the  trouble  she  had 
given. 

"  Fudge  and  nonsense ! "  said  Miss  Gastonguay. 
"  We  all  have  times  when  if  we  don't  faint  we'd  like 
to.  Here,  drink  this  ;  and.  Prosperity,  go  telephone 
to  Doctor  Sinclair  that  his  daughter  is  going  to  stay 
here  all  night.     Don't  say  she  doesn't  feel  well." 

"  I  had  rather  go  home,"  said  Aurelia,  feebly. 

"  You'll  stay  here.  We'll  put  you  to  sleep  in  the 
Marie  Antoinette  room  off  mine,  and  I'll  call  to  see 
how  you  are  through  the  night.  Chelda,  you  see  to 
getting  her  to  bed  now.    I  have  some  letters  to  write," 


246 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


'!"»«' 


li:::::;'! 


M  ;ii   i 


'■-i 


Chelda  willingly  assumed  the  care  of  the  suffering 
girl,  who  had  suddenly  become  possessed  ot  a  pe- 
culiar attraction  for  her.  Her  black  eyes  fastened 
themselves  on  the  pale  face  on  the  sofa  cushion. 
Not  a  look,  not  an  action  escaped  them,  and  she 
made  not  the  slightest  effort  to  control  her  eagerness 
as  she  hung  over  her  guest. 

"  Your  distress  is  mental,  not  physical,"  she  mur- 
mured, when  Miss  Gastonguay  and  Prosperity  had 
left  them.     "Tell  me  about  it." 

Aurelia,  naturally  frank,  was  in  her  state  of  ex- 
haustion doubly  open  to  persuasion,  and  yet  her 
bloodless  lips  could  not  frame  the  secret  of  her  dis- 
tress. 

"It  is  Mr.  Huntington,"  said  Chelda,  "you  are 
sorry  to  think  he  has  gone  away." 

"  Sorry ! "  and  Aurelia  made  a  weak  gesture  ex- 
pressive of  lack  of  appropriateness  in  the  adjective. 
Then,  coaxed  and  allured  by  Chelda,  she  whispered 
a  tearful  tale  of  a  hopeless  infatuation  for  the  young 
clergyman. 

"  Did  he  know  it  ?  "  asked  Chelda. 

Aurelia  opened  wide  her  innocent  blue  eyes.  "  Oh, 
no,  no,  —  how  could  he .' " 

Chelda  pressed  her  handkerchief  to  her  lips. 
Aurelia  herself  was  the  only  person  in  Rossignol  un- 
aware of  her  childishly  open  admiration  for  the  hand- 
pome  young  man.    "  How  could  you  reconcile  it  with 


THE   CHURCH  LOSES  ITS  PASTOR. 


24; 


your  conscience  ?  "  she  asked,  mildly,  "  to  fall  in  love 
with  a  man  who  never  showed  you  the  slightest 
attention  ? " 

"  I  could  not  —  I  did  not,"  and  Aurelia  tried  to 
hide  her  distressed  face  against  the  back  of  the  sofa. 
"  I  knew  it  was  wrong.  I  have  suffered,  oh,  how  I 
have  suffered  !  And  I  prayed  about  it,  but  I  couldn't 
seem  to  help  it.  He  was  so  —  so  attractive,  and  he 
was  in  such  trouble." 

"  Did  you  ever  pray  for  him  ? "  asked  Chelda,  in 
her  gently  inquisitorial  manner. 

"  Every  day  of  my  life  —  every  hour." 

"  Did  you  tell  him  > " 

Aurelia  shrank  from  her.  "  How  could  I  do  that  ? 
We  never  talked  about  anything  but  the  Sunday 
school  and  the  mothers'   meetings." 

Again  Chelda's  face  contracted  with  amusement, 
and,  leaving  her,  she  went  away  to  have  a  bed  made 
ready  for  her. 

Twice  a  day  a  woman  from  one  of  the  neighbour- 
ing cottages  was  permitted  by  Miss  Gastonguay  to 
come  in  and  give  to  Chelda,  who  was  not  a  champion 
for  the  rights  of  men,  any  services  that  she  might 
require.  But  the  woman  was  not  allowed  to  sleep 
under  the  roof,  and  Chelda  was  now  in  haste  to  find 
her  before  she  left  for  the  night. 

In  a  short  time  Aurelia  was  comfortably  installed 
in  bed.     Chelda  in  morbid  curiosity  hung  over  her 


WW, 


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_„.  i,'«3i 


248 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


as  long  as  she  could  extort  a  remark  from  her.  But 
when  the  sleeping-draught  administered  by  Miss 
Gastonguay  began  to  take  effect,  the  young  lady 
sought  her  own  room,  detained  first  by  Miss  Gaston- 
guay, who  asked,  with  determination,  "What  does 
this  mean  ? " 

"  What,  aunt  ?  " 

"You  know.  Mr.  Huntington's  departure.  Are 
you  worrying  about  it .?  " 

"  A  little,  aunt,  not  much." 

Miss  Gastonguay  had  her  glasses  on,  and  she 
looked  straight  into  Chelda's  eyes.  There  was  no 
veil  over  them  now.  They  had  never  appeared  more 
clear,  more  honest,  more  heart-whole. 

"  I  never  understand  you,"  she  said,  impatiently. 
"I  thought  you  were  beginning  to  take  an  intereet 
in  that  young  man.  He  seems  to  have  been  dan- 
gling about  you  a  good  deal  lately." 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  beginning  to  like 
him  a  trifle,  but  this  settles  it,"  and  she  scornfully 
filliped  the  note  she  still  held  in  her  hand.  "  He 
docs  not  know  his  own  mind.  He  is  as  fickle  as  the 
wind.     Really,  I  do  not  think  I  care  to  marry." 

"Child,  I  would  like  to  see  you  with  a  husband 
and  children  of  your  own.  The  Gastonguays  are 
dying  out." 

"  What  does  it  matter  who  comes  after  us  ? " 

"  Well,  please  yourself,  I  don't  want  to  get  rid  ()i 


If 

iSlfc 


THE   CHURCH  LOSES  ITS  PASTOR. 


249 


you,"  and  Miss  Gastonguay  went  thoughtfully  to  her 
own  room. 

Chelda  locked  her  door,  picked  a  disfiguring  thread 
off  a  delicately  woven  rose  on  the  carpet,  moved 
about  the  lOom  with  exceeding  quietness  and  stealth- 
iness,  stopped  occasionally  before  the  dark  reflection 
in  her  minor,  but  in  no  way  gave  outward  signs  of 
any  violent  internal  emotion. 

After  a  time  she  put  her  hand  to  her  throat  as  if 
something  choked  her.  A  turn  of  her  head  had 
entangled  a  jewelled  pin  in  the  lace  about  her  neck. 
With  infinite  patience  she  detached  the  pin,  then 
standing  with  her  eyes  fastened  on  it  as  they  had 
been  fastened  on  Aurelia's  face,  she  gently  insinuated 
its  point  under  the  velvety  olive  skin  of  her  wrist. 

One  drop  of  blood  came,  then  another  and  another, 
until  finally,  from  the  little  slit  that  she  continued 
lengthening,  a  soft  continuous  flow  of  crimson  fell 
on  the  roses  '^f  the  carpet. 

This  was  barbarous,  —  a  lapse  into  the  torture 
cu.-^  >ms  of  her  forefathers.  It  did  not  hurt  her,  but 
her  .  clings  were  too  fine  to  permit  the  disfigurement 
of  hei  carpet,  and,  getting  a  basin  of  water,  she  went 
on  her  knees  and  carefully  removed  the  stain. 

Then  walking  back  on  her  heels  she  gazed  stead- 
fastly at  the  reddened  water.  The  towel  fell  from 
her  hands,  every  muscle  in  her  body  relaxed.  After 
the  lapse  of   a  few  mesmerised    minutes    she   fell 


250 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


;'  ' 


heavily  to  the  floor,  her  face  turned  up  to  the  French 
cupids  on  her  ceiling. 

Hour  after  hour  she  lay  there.  The  wind  blew  in 
through  an  open  window  on  her  rigid  limbs,  occasion- 
ally a  distant  bell  chimed  the  hours  from  the  town, 
but  she  neither  felt  the  wind  nor  heard  the  bell. 
She  had  not  fainted.  Her  senses  were  painfully, 
acutely  alive,  yet  she  paid  no  heed  to  any  of  the 
sounds  of  the  night,  and  only  stirred  when  darkness 
passed  away  and  morning  came,  and  a  knock  at  her 
door  proclaimed  the  arrival  of  Prosperity  on  his  tour 
of  arousing  the  family  and  depositing  the  hot  water 
pitchers  outside  their  bedrooms. 

She  must  get  up,  or  her  aunt  would  come  to  seek 
her.  She  gradually  raised  herself,  stood  upright 
and  motionless  for  a  few  minutes,  then  began  a  short 
halting  approach  to  a  mirror.  One  step  at  a  time 
she  took,  and  sometimes  her  reluctant  feet  carried 
her  backward.  The  nearest  mirror  to  her  was  one 
set  in  the  wall,  and  surrounded  by  a  carved  wreath 
of  flowers.  It  was  small,  yet  it  would  serve  her 
purpose. 

At  last  she  arrived  before  it.  She  shut  her  eyes 
to  put  off  the  moment  for  glancing  into  it.  When 
she  did  look,  when  she  saw  what  was  revealed,  she 
struck  it  sharply  with  her  hand  and  cracked  the  oval 
face  across  its  delicate  curve. 

However,  the  shock  was  over.     Her  fertile  brain 


THE   CHURCH  LOSES  ITS  PASTOR. 


251 


must  now  plan  a  way  to  shield  herself  from  the 
outward  avo\/al  of  her  night  of  repressed  mental 
anguish. 

She  went  boldly  up  to  a  cheval-glass,  and  pulling 
the  long  pins  from  her  hair,  let  it  fall  down  over  her 
gown.  Its  luxuriant  masses  were  streaked  with 
gray.  In  front,  where  it  was  brushed  back  from  her 
aching  forehead,  it  was  snow-white.  In  a  few  short 
hours  she  had  added  ten  years  to  her  age. 

She  went  to  her  dressing-table.  In  a  drawer 
there  was  a  bottle  from  which  she  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  taking  a  few  drops  daily  to  spread  over  one 
tiny  gray  patch  that  had  persistently  grown  over  one 
temple.  She  held  the  bottle  up  to  the  light.  There 
was  not  much  in  it,  yet  she  would  see  how  far  it 
would  go.  With  a  steady  hand  and  without  wasting 
one  drop  she  quickly  stained  the  locks  most  in  need 
of  disguise.  There  was  not  enough  left  to  colour  all 
her  length  of  hair.  .Seizing  a  pair  of  scissors,  she 
remorselessly  cut  away  the  soft  gray  strands  and  set 
a  match  to  them  in  the  fireplace,  and  responded 
calmly  to  her  aunt's  impatient  summons.  "  Presently, 
aunt,  presently,  don't  wait  for  me." 

"Did  you  not  sleep  well.?"  asked  Miss  Gaston- 
guay,  when  she  finally  made  her  appearance  at  the 
breakfast-table. 

"So  soundly  that  I  did  not  turn  on  my  pillow." 

"  You  look  fresh  and  alert,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay, 


252 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


complacently.  "  How  are  you,  Aurelia  ? "  and  she 
addressed  her  still  nervously  upset  guest. 

"  I  am  better,"  said  the  girl,  "  but  I  think  I  would 
like  to  go  home,  please." 

"Very  well,  I'll  drive  you  down  as  soon  as  we 
finish  breakfast.  Prosperity,  order  the  carriage,  the 
victoria  —  " 

"Aunt,"  said  Chelda,  "this  coffee  is  delicious. 
Will  you  please  give  me  another  cup } " 

"Certainly.  I  wonder  what  Derrice  Mercer  is 
doing  while  her  husband  is  away  ? " 

"  Rebecca  told  me  that  she  is  staying  at  the  par- 
sonage," replied  her  niece. 

"  Mrs.  Negus  has  enough  to  do  without  taking 
care  of  her.  Suppose  we  have  her  up  here, 
Chelda  ? " 

"An  excellent  plan,  I  should  like  it  above  all 
things,"  said  the  young  lady,  with  unusual  sprightli- 
ness. 

"  I'll  go  ask  her  this  morning,"  said  Miss  Gaston- 
gu  iy.  "  I  want  you  to  know  her  better,  Chelda. 
Aurelia,  you  must  come  up  while  she  is  here." 

"  Thank  you,"  murmured  Aurelia,  choking  over  a 
morsel  she  was  forcing  herself  to  eat,  "  but  I  shall 
be  very  busy  with  church  work  for  some  time  to 


come. 


>> 


Miss  Gastongua}-  said  nothing  more  at  the  time, 
except   a  warning,   "  Moderation,   Aurelia,   modera- 


THE   CHURCH  LOSES  ITS  PASTOR, 


253 


tion,"  but  when  she  left  the  girl  at  her  own  door  she 
whispered,  "  Keep  up  a  brave  heart,  you'll  get  over 
this  in  time;  and  don't  torture  yourself.  You've 
done  nothing  wrong.  Half  the  girls  in  town  are 
red-eyed  this  morning." 


hm 


i  i  '1'  I 


CHAPTER  XX. 

BURGLARS  AT  FRENCH  CROSS. 

Derrice  readily  accepted  the  invitation  to  French 
Cross,  but  found  her  services  as  a  comforter  in  no 
wise  required. 

Chelda  seemed  absolutely  indifferent  to  Mr.  Hunt- 
ington's departure.  She  was  ready  enough  to  dis- 
cuss him  when  his  name  was  mentioned,  but  all  her 
utterances  were  so  calm  and  dispassionate  that  Der- 
rice often  found  herself  obliged  to  check  the  look  of 
wonder  with  which  she  found  herself  gazing  at  the 
enigmatical  girl.  Was  Mrs.  Negus  mistaken.^  She 
pondered  the  question  for  some  time,  then  in  dis- 
quiet put  it  out  of  her  mind  and  devoted  herself  to 
being  quietly  happy. 

Miss  Gastonguay  took  an  undisguised  pleasure 
in  her  company.  She  conducted  her  all  over  the 
estate,  showed  her  the  wood  and  the  French  Cross 
graveyard  from  which  the  house  had  taken  its  name, 
and  where  the  first  Catholic  settlers  of  the  town  lay 
buried. 

Miss  Gastonguay  had  had  a  stone  wall  put  around 

«54 


BURGLARS  AT  FRENCH  CROSS. 


-55 


it,  and  had  replaced  the  old  wooden  cross  with  a 
stately  marble  one  that  could  be  seen  gleaming  from 
its  gentle  hill  for  miles  about  the  country. 

They  also  made  excursions  together  to  the  town, 
and  Miss  Gastonguay  took  Derrice  in  her  carriage  to 
return  the  calls  that  had  been  made  upon  her. 

The  seven  Mrs.  Potts,  after  a  family  conclave,  for 
they  stood  or  fell  together,  had  resolved  to  extend 
the  light  of  their  countenances  upon  Derrice.  True, 
she  was  not  strictly  within  the  circle  of  those  whom 
they  patronised,  for  society  was  formed  along  church 
lines  in  Rossignol,  and  she  belonged  to  the  Church 
of  the  United  Brethren,  or  the  orthodox  and  unfash- 
ionable clan,  while  they  as  Unitarians  represented 
the  liberal  and  broad-minded  set  of  the  community. 
However,  the  blood  of  the  Potts  was  getting  thin, 
their  tribe  was  becoming  more  and  more  reduced, 
for  but  few  strangers  made  a  permanent  home  in 
Rossignol.  It  was  therefore  absolutely  necessary 
to  introduce  some  new  elements,  and  they  began 
with  the  wife  of  the  bank  cashier. 

A  week  previous  they  had  all  called,  and  Miss 
Gastonguay,  in  her  interest  in  Derrice,  even  went  so 
far  as  to  humble  herself  before  the  seven  ladies,  and 
crave  forgiveness  for  her  latest  sin  against  them  in 
likening  them  to  the  seven  wifes  of  Saint  Ives  with 
their  seven  bags  and  seven  cats.  This  she  did  in 
order  to  enter  their  houses  with  her  guest. 


!  I  r. 


IH' 


iilli 


li:, ,' ';!? 


256 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


She  really  was  growing  very  much  attached  to 
this  young  girl,  yet  there  were  times  when  her  sturdy 
good-humour  ceased,  and  she  shut  herself  in  her 
room  in  an  unapproachable  temper. 

Chelda  never  varied  in  her  treatment  of  Derrice. 
She  sought  her  company,  she  was  always  good- 
tempered  and  agreeable,  interested  and  never  jealous, 
and  at  frequent  intervals  made  ingenious  suggestions 
that  started  the  girl  on  her  favourite  topic  of  conver- 
sation, —  her  life  with  her  idolised  father. 

Justin  was  still  away,  but  one  day,  after  a  fort- 
night's absence,  etter  was  received  from  him.  Mr. 
Huntington  had  been  summoned  to  the  bedside  of 
his  dying  father,  Justin  was  therefore  at  liberty  to 
return  to  Rossignol. 

Derrice,  with  eyes  full  of  tears  at  the  thought  of 
Mr.  Huntington's  affliction,  was  yet  conscious  of  a 
singing  at  her  heart  at  the  thought  of  her  husband's 
return.  However,  she  showed  no  sign  of  emotion, 
and  Miss  Gastonguay,  who  had  been  watching  her, 
said,  "I  believe  that  young  man  has  frightened  all 
the  spirit  out  of  you." 

"What  young  man .?"  asked  Derrice,  in  surprise. 

"  Your  husband,  of  course." 

"  Why,  I  have  been  trying  to  be  proper  and  dig- 
nified.   I  have  been  afraid  you  would  think  me  giddy." 

"  Giddy, —  good  gracious,  I  hke  to  see  young  people 
frisk  a  bit," 


BURGLARS  AT  FRENCH  CROSS. 


257 


"  If  I  might,"  said  Derrice,  cautiously,  "  if  I  might, 
I  should  like  at  this  present  moment  to  do  some- 
thing." 

«  What  is  it  ? " 

"  I  should  like  to  run  around  the  house  the  way  the 
Negus  children  do." 

"Come  along,"  said  her  hostess,  laconically,  and 
marching  to  the  hall  she  threw  open  the  large  front 
door. 

Derrice  caught  up  the  train  of  her  evening  gown 
and  disappeared  like  a  flash  around  one  end  of  the 
house. 

March  was  over,  with  its  alternations  of  heat  and 
cold,  snow  banks  and  running  rivulets.  The  grav- 
elled walks  were  now  dry  and  firm  after  the  warm 
April  sunshine  of  the  day,  and  Derrice  ran  until  she 
was  tired,  then  fluttering  her  precious  letter  in  her 
hand  she  sank  on  the  steps  at  Miss  Gastonguay's 
feet. 

"Come  in,  child,"  said  that  lady,  "and  have  your 
evening  cup  of  tea,  and  then  play  a  game  of  baga- 
telle with  me.  That  will  keep  you  on  your  feet.  I 
think  I'll  change  my  mind ;  your  spirit  is  not  all 
gone." 

Later  on — in  the  middle  of  the  night  —  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay  emphasised  this  decision.  Derrice's  spirit 
certainly  was  not  gone. 

For  the  rest  of  the  evening  the  girl  was  like  one 


258 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


wM 


1  '  r. 


moving  in  an  enchanted  dream.  Her  eyes  shone, 
her  cheeks  glowed,  her  hair  glittered  in  the  lamp- 
light like  a  crown  set  over  her  fair  brows.  Miss 
Gastonguay,  fascinated  by  her  beauty,  could  not  keep 
her  gaze  from  her,  and  even  Chelda  threw  her  a 
frequent  glance  of  an  apparently  generous  admiration. 

They  did  not  go  to  bed  until  a  late  hour,  but 
Derrice  was  too  much  excited  to  sleep  long.  She 
dropped  into  one  short  nap,  then  her  excited  brain, 
having  thrown  this  sop  to  her  fatigued  body,  woke 
her  up  and  drove  her  to  the  windov/. 

She  stood  in  its  embrasure,  a  dove-coloured  dress- 
ing-gown thrown  over  her  shoulders,  her  face  turned 
toward  the  town,  her  whole  attitude  one  of  charming 
expectancy.  To-morrow  he  would  be  at  home,  —  her 
own  adored  husband. 

The  night  was  not  very  dark.  There  was  no  moon, 
but  the  stars  were  shining  brightly,  and  some  light 
was  afforded  to  the  atmosphere  by  the  shining  bosom 
of  the  river. 

Across  the  face  of  her  musings  there  suddenly 
drifted  the  fat  figure  of  the  pony.  Either  allured  by 
the  calm  beauty  of  the  night,  or  disturbed  in  his 
slumbers  by  some  remembrance  of  a  too  hearty 
supper,  he  had  left  his  loose  box,  whose  door  was 
always  open,  and  was  employing  his  time  by  strolling 
about  the  lawn  and  the  gravel  drive. 

Derrice  knew  that  in  his  younger  days  he  had 


BURGLARS  AT  FREJ^CH  CROSS. 


2sg 


been  a  circus  pony,  and  although  long  since  rescued 
from  that  life  by  Miss  Gastonguay,  he  yet  retained 
some  habits  not  in  general  peculiar  to  the  equine 
race. 

He  could  neatly  brush  Miss  Gastonguay's  coat  by 
means  of  a  whisk  held  between  his  teeth,  he  could 
also  look  for  a  hidden  handkerchief,  and  upon  one  or 
two  occasions  he  had  been  ignominiously  expelled 
from  the  house  while  indulging  in  an  interested 
search  for  a  sugar-bowl. 

To-night  he  was  evidently  uneasy,  and  Derrice 
watched  him  compassionately  as  he  walked  slowly 
up  and  down  before  the  house,  and  presently,  by  way 
of  quieting  his  nerves,  went  to  practise  his  steps  on  a 
trick  ladder  that  Miss  Gastonguay  had  had  erected 
on  the  lawn  for  him. 

Up  and  down  the  steps  he  went,  carefully  balanc- 
ing himself  on  his  dainty  hoofs,  but  he  found  no 
peace  for  his  troubled  mind  in  the  exercise,  and  soon 
returned  to  the  pawed  spot  on  the  grass  below  his 
mistress's  window,  where  he  stood  nervously  throw- 
ing his  head  in  the  air  and  seeming  to  catch  it  as  it 
came  down. 

"  Poor  pony,  he  is  unhappy  and  I  am  so  happy," 
murmured  Derrice,  and  hastily  thrusting  her  arms 
into  the  sleeves  of  her  gown,  she  drew  on  a  pair  of 
shoes  and  resolved  to  go  down  and  beg  him  to  return 
to  the  stable.    , 


■()  >i, 


260 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


Of  a  singularly  fearless  disposition,  it  never 
occurred  to  her  that  there  could  be  any  danger  to 
herself  in  following  the  pony's  example  by  prowling 
about  the  large  and  lonely  house  at  the  dead  of 
night.  She  did  not  even  think  of  a  light,  and,  step- 
ping to  the  doorway  of  her  room,  she  was  just  about 
to  hurry  through  the  hall  when  a  sudden  discovery 
brought  her  to  a  standstill. 

Her  room  was  just  across  the  haii  from  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay's,  and  according  to  a  mutual  agreement  both 
slept  with  their  doors  open,  "  Lest  you  should  be 
lonely,"  Miss  Gastonguay  said,  "  And  lest  any  one 
should  run  away  with  you,"  Derrice  often  rejoined. 

Miss  Gastonguay  was  not  one  to  break  a  promise, 
even  of  the  most  trifling  nature,  and,  with  a  low, 
"  Perhaps  she  has  gone  down  to  the  pony  herself," 
Derrice  pushed  open  the  door  of  her  room.  Usually 
she  could  look  right  in  and  see  the  uninterrupted 
shadowy  outline  of  the  big  white  bed  at  the  end  of 
the  room.     Now  there  was  an  obstruction. 

Two  dusky  shapes  stood  by  the  bedhead,  and 
their  position  with  regard  to  the  small  table  with 
many  drawers  standing  by  Miss  Gastongnay's  pillow 
speedily  revealed  their  errand  to  Derrice. 

In  her  frequent  meetings  with  people  possessed 
of  an  abundance  of  this  world's  goods,  she  had 
heard  stories  of  burglars  and  their  ways.  She  knew 
at  once,  without  the  slightost  speculation,  that  here 


BURGLARS  AT  FRENCH  CROSS. 


261 


were  two  scoundrels  tempted  by  the  lonely  situation 
of  French  Cross,  the  wealth  of  its  mistress,  and  her 
well-known  carelessness  with  regard  to  surroundmg 
herself  with  able  protectors. 

Prosperity  and  Tribulation  were  no  better  than 
two  children.  These  men  were  resolved  to  possess 
themselves  of  sol  j  of  Miss  Gastonguay's  valuables. 

Derrice  was  nearly  blind  with  indignation.  Her 
whole  body  shook.  Would  these  men  dare  to  lay 
unholy  hands  on  the  property  of  one  so  good  and 
generous  ?  They  had  probably  chloroformed  her 
before  they  began  their  work  of  rifling  the  drawers. 

She  sprang  forward.  Oh,  for  a  weapon  with  which 
to  punish  the  vile  mvaders !  Nothing  came  to  her 
hand  but  a  silver  bedroom  candlestick  gleaming  on 
a  table  by  the  door.  She  ^eizcd  it,  rushed  forward, 
and,  with  a  cry  of  rage,  precipitated  herself  on  the 
two  men. 

They  had  indeed  been  trying  to  prolong  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay's natural  slumber  into  an  artificial  one  that 
would  lait  until  they  had  had  time  to  examine  the 
room,  but  just  at  the  moment  of  Derrice's  appear- 
ance a  singular  change  had  come  over  them. 

They  had  been  doing  tlieir  work  with  the  rapidity 
of  lightning.  The  contents  of  all  the  drawers  but 
one  had  been  transferred  to  their  pockets,  but,  at 
the  discovery  of  the  few  valueless  articles  in  this 
drawer,  they  had  exchanged  one  amazed  glance,  and 


0m  I 

m 

^fl  1 

N 

ft-'S   1 

ffl 

<i8 

11 

1 1 
mm 

262 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


\%i\ 


then  as  quickly  as  they  had  taken  th>iir  booty  they 
returned  it. 

Money  and  jewelry  went  noiselessly  back,  the 
lantern  was  turned  with  a  rapid  flash  on  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay,  the  handkerchief  was  lifted  from  he:  face, 
and  they  were  just  about  to  beat  a  retreat  from 
the  room,  when  Derrice  threw  herself  on  them  and 
inflicted  a  smart  blow  with  the  candlestick  on  the 
head  of  the  one  nearest  her. 

Prepared  for  all  contingencies,  the  one  attacked 
threw  a  somewhat  comical  glance  at  his  associate. 
Old  people  slept  lightly.  They  had  not  tb ought  of 
drugging  this  young  healtny  person,  indeed  they  had 
not  planned  to  enter  her  room,  and,  calmly  putting 
her  aside,  they  vartished  into  the  hall. 

Dfirrice  turned  her  atfj'Mfjun  tf)  Mis;?  Gastonguay, 
who  was  sitting  up  111  be'l  \\\\Ai\\^  «jaculating, 
"What — what's  all  this?  Is  Uiflt  jrojir  husband, 
Derrice  Mercer  ?     Who's  pounding  below  / '' 

"No,  no,"  »hHeke(i  the  ^Irl,  "It  is  the  pony. 
Ihcy  have  put  out  thdr  lantern.  They  are  thieves 
and  robbers;  come,  let  us  try  to  catch  them, — I 
cannot  leave  you,"  and  she  half  dragged,  half  con- 
ducted her  bewildered  friaiid  to  the  hall. 

lliere  a  curious  scene  was  taking  place.  Chelda, 
who  slept  with  one  ear  open  in  n  rat  like  fashion,  had 
heaid  Derrice's  first  cry,  and,  Itdping  from  her  bed, 
had  r«H  to  the  heail  of  the  itairease,  where  she  now 


BURGLARS  AT  FRENCH  CROSS. 


263 


Stood  with  I.  revolver,  calmly  popping  away  at  a  con- 
fused jumble  in  the  hall  below,  consisting  of  two 
men  and  a  mass  of  something  white. 

"Stop,  stop,  Chelda,"  cried  Derrice,  "the  pony 
has  come  in  !  " 

The  Fairy  Prince  had  indeed,  in  his  anxiety  about 
the  strangers  who  had  been  gliding  around  the 
house,  mounted  the  front  steps  and  pushed  open  the 
hall  door,  whose  bolt  the  strangers  had  shot  back  to 
provide  for  speedy  escape  if  necessary.  The  Fairy 
Prince  had  entered  upon  a  tour  of  discovery  through 
the  hall,  and,  not  finding  them,  had  ended  by  placing 
his  fat  body  immediately  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase. 

One  of  the  men  had  slipped  in  his  rapid  descent, 
and  had  inflicted  some  injury  upon  himself,  for  his 
companion  with  many  oaths  was  adjuring  him  to 
come  on,  and,  finding  he  could  not,  promptly  snatched 
at  the  pony's  forelock,  forced  him  aside,  and  rushed 
away. 

"Come,  girls, — we've  got  one  of  them,"  cried 
Miss  Gastonguay,  triumphantly.  "  Chelda,  put  up 
that  revolver.  You  don't  want  to  shoot  a  man  in 
the  back,  —  give  it  to  me.  You  young  villain,  if  you 
move  I'll  shoot  you  dead  ! "  and  valiantly  charging 
down  the  staircase  with  Derrice  in  close  attendance, 
she  hurled  herself  on  the  suddenly  crippled  man, 
who  stood  holding  to  the  polished  railing. 

He  had  twisted  his  foot,  and  at  her  words  he  made 


264 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


ii^y 


a  last  desperate  attempt  to  get  away,  but  fell  head- 
long, whereupon  Miss  Gastonguay  promptly  placed 
a  hall  chair  on  his  back. 

Derrice  wrenched  the  cord  from  her  dressing- 
gown,  and  with  Miss  Gastonguay's  assistance  tied 
firmly  together  the  hands  that  he  only  pretended  to 
withdraw  from  them.  He  was  a  cool  and  self-pos- 
sessed stripling,  by  no  means  vicious  in  appearance, 
but  rather  of  a  philosophical  composure,  for,  in  spite 
of  the  pain  in  his  foot,  he  seemed  to  take  the  acci- 
dent of  his  capture  as  rather  a  humorous  one. 

When  Prosperity  and  Tribulation  arrived  on  the 
scene,  —  both  fully  dressed  even  to  their  watches,  — 
their  eyes  as  big  as  saucers  took  in  the  awe-inspiring 
sight  of  a  gentlemanly-looking  lad  with  bound  hands 
stretched  on  the  hardwood  floos  while  their  mistress, 
her  niece,  and  her  guest,  in  startling  costumes,  held 
a  consultation  in  the  background. 

"  Prosperity,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  "  go  heat 
sorae  water,  bathe  that  villain's  foot,  and  put  some 
liniment  on  it." 

Prosperity,  keeping  at  a  safe  distance  from  the 
prisoner's  heels,  put  down  his  candle,  lighted  the 
hall,  and  prepared  to  do  as  he  was  told. 

"Then  take  him  out  to  the  laundry,"  said  Miss 
Gas'onguay,  "Ccrry  him  if  he  can't  walk,  and  do 
ynu  aud  Tribulation  keep  close  beh-n'^  btm  so  he 
can't  get  away  ;  and  you  girls  cojuc  V'  Oeo^ ' 


J  ^y 


3*- 


BURGLARS  AT  FRENCH  CROSS. 


265 


They  went  up-stairs  with  her.  Chelda,  strange  to 
say,  chattered  excitedly,  and  did  not  want  to  go  to 
her  room.  Miss  Gastonguay  and  Derrice  did  not 
respond,  and  she  was  forced  to  leave  them.  They 
were  boih  sombre  and  regretful,  and  neither  of  them 
could  sleep,  although  they  both  threw  themselves 
upon  their  beds. 

Toward  morning,  Derrice  saw  through  the  open 
door  that  Miss  Gastonguay  was  leaving  her  room. 
She  sprang  up,  and,  running  out  to  the  hall,  found 
she  was  fully  dressed. 

♦'What  do  you  want,  child.?"  asked  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  to  let  that  young  man  go,' 
said  Derrice,  firmly.     "  I  believe  he  is  sorry  by  this 
time." 

"Little  fool,  would  you  have  crime  stalk  unpun- 
ished thfough  the  land }  " 

'♦  No,  but  he  is  so  young.' 

"  Go  back  to  be  '      I  v  ill  see  to  him." 

"You  will  let  him  go,"  said  Derrice,  snatching 
her  hand  and  pressing  it  to  her  lips.  "  I  see  it  in 
your  eye." 


I 


!'<■« 


HI  ! 


II 

SI  ' 


^11 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

MISS    GASTONGUAY    INTERVIEWS    HER    PRISONER. 

Miss  Gastonguay  found  Prosperity  sitting  in  the 
shadow  of  the  wash-tubs,  holding  one  end  of  a  long 
rope  that  he  had  knotted  firmly  around  his  prisoner's 
waist. 

The  young  burglar,  seeing  that  nothing  could  be 
done,  had  fallen  asleep.  Prosperity  was  presiding 
over  his  slumbers  in  fascinated  awe,  and  nearly 
jumped  out  of  his  skin  when  Miss  Gastonguay 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Go  join  your  brother,"  and  she  pointed  to  Tribu- 
lation, who  was  patrolling  the  kitchen  passage,  hold- 
ing over  his  shoulder  a  Revolutionary  musket  that 
he  had  brought  from  the  attic. 

"  You'll  hold  the  prisoner  .-* "  said  Prosperity,  sur- 
rendering the  rope  to  her. 

"  Yes,  I'll  hold  him.  Go  away  now,  and  shut  the 
uoor,  and  don*:  listen," 

P»-osiierlty  tiptoed  out,  ttJid  Settffng  |p|i1f  on  an 
upturned  firkin,  sho  seized  a  stirk  used  for  agitat- 
ing tlulhes  hi  I  Milling  water,  and  gently  stirred  the 

sleeper  with  it,  _- ^      _ — 

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INTERVIEWS  HER   PRISONER. 


267 


He  opened  his  eyes  and  calmly  stared  at  her. 

"You're  a  nice  young  man,"  she  said,  ironically, 
and  turning  a  lamp  bracket  nearer  his  face  and 
farther  away  from  her  own. 

He  made  no  reply  to  this  remark,  beyond  cau- 
tiously moving  his  foot. 

"  Is  it  any  better  1  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  that  old  coon  rubbed  it.  I'm  r  mch  obliged, 
ma'am." 

His  manner  was  slightly  conciliatory,  yet  she 
broke  into  denunciation.  "  You  need  not  try  to 
soften  me.  You  ought  to  be  hanged.  If  a  few 
young  rascals  like  you  were  strung  up,  you'd  save 
a  million  others  following  in  your  steps.  Now  what 
have  I  ever  done  that  you  should  break  into  my 
house,  and  try  to  rob  me  of  hard-earned  money,  — 
money  earned  by  the  sweat  of  the  brow  of  my 
ancestors.  Who  are  you,  I  say,  that  you  should 
deprive  me  of  it  "i " 

"  The  world  owes  me  a  living,"  he  said,  sullenly. 

**  A  living  —  an  honest  living.     Now  what  do  you 
make  out  of  youi  line  of  life,  — just  tell  mc  1  " 
'    "  Lots  of  fun,  when  I  have  any  luck." 

"  You  are  lazy,"  she  said,  angrily,  "  too  lazy  to  put 
up  with  quiet  toil  and  small  results." 

"Quiet  toil,",  he  replied,  with  a  sneer.  "Some 
capitalist  gets  hold  of  you.  He  sucks  all  the  life 
put  ol  you.     Hard  work,  small  pay,  no  play.     When 


1^1 


268 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


you're  old,  you're  kicked  in  the  gutter  to  die.  I 
was  once  in  a  factory  —  " 

"  What  is  the  merit  of  your  present  occupation  ?  " 
she  asked,  grimly. 

"You  work  when  you  like,  you're  your  own 
boss ;  you  have  travel,  and  a  kind  of  feeling  of  free 
drinks  in  you  all  the  time,  —  sprees  and  a  chance  for 
rest  when  you  make  a  good  haul,  and  the  country  to 
take  care  of  you  when  you're  old.  The  worse  you 
do,  the  better  you're  looked  after.  I'm  going  to  help 
some  likely  person  off  the  boards  when  I'm  sixty. 
Some  one  like  yourself,  ma'am.  Then  I'll  have  good 
lawyers,  and  new  trials,  and  soft  food,  and  flowers, 
and  ladies  to  visit  me,  and  maybe  go  bang  free." 

Miss  Gastonguay  had  fallen  into  a  kind  of  waking 
trance.  Her  eye  pierced  the  young  man's  face, — 
looked  through  it  to  some  scene  unknown.  He  saw 
that  she  was  not  thinking  of  him,  and  he  favoured 
her  with  a  curiously  appreciative  and  intelligent 
glance. 

Presently  she  r'^used  herself  and  said,  solemnly, 
"Young  man,  I  am  going  to  trust  you.  Here,  take 
this  rope  off  your  waist,"  and  she  tossed  him  the 
end.  "  Sit  up  on  that  bench  and  look  me  squarely 
in  the  face.  Here  I  sit,  your  best  friend  at  the 
present  minute.  Talk  freely  to  me.  We  are  two 
erring  mortals ;  get  out  of  your  mind  that  I  am  any 
better  off  than  you.     If  you  open  your  njind  to  me 


TNTEF  VIEWS  HER  PRISONER. 


269 


II 


you  will  not  regret  it.  I  ask  you  now  in  the  sight 
of  God,  do  you  like  you    present. life  ? " 

The  young  man  sat  down  in  the  place  indicated, 
and  scrutinised  her  sharply  and  narrowly. 

"  Time  is  precious,"  she  said,  warningly,  "  I  mean 
what  I  say.  Tear  off  your  disguise.  We  all  wear 
one,  —  I  do.  Here  I  show  you  my  naked  heart. 
I  am  going  to  let  you  escape.  If  you  linger,  you 
may  be  caught.  The  townspeople  will  not  be  so 
merciful.  If  you're  a  bad  fellow,  tell  me  so,  and  go. 
If  you  want  help,  I'll  give  it  to  you." 

The  young  criminal  smiled  slightly,  then  his  cyn- 
ical expression  faded  away,  and  he  took  on  an  air 
of  sincerity.  "  I  believe  you,  ma'am.  I've  reason 
to.  I'll  talk  straight.  Yes,  I  like  my  life  good 
enough." 

"  Where  were  you  brought  up  .?  " 

"  In  New  York,  —  in  what  you  call  the  slums." 

"  What  made  you  a  criminal .? " 

"  I  didn't  want  to  work." 

"  Oh,  —  you  wanted  luxuries  } " 

"Yes,  ma'am.  I  was  ambitious.  I  hadn't  any- 
thing.    I  might  get  everything." 

"  Who  was  that  man  with  you  }  ** 

"  A  pal ;  you  wouldn't  know  him  if  I  told  you." 

"  A  curious  pal  to  run  away  from  you  !  " 

The  burglar  smiled  again.  "What  good  could 
he   do   by  staying.^     He's   only  skedaddled  to  lay 


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270 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


plans  to  get  me  out  of  your  gingerbread  jaii  here  if 
I  choose  to  go  into  it." 

"  Then  you  criminals  stand  by  each  other  ? " 

Her  morbid  curiosity  did  not  surprise  him. 

"I  guess  we  stand  by  each  o:her  as  well  as  the 
capitalists." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  this  sentence,  young  man,  — 
*  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  also  shall  he 
reap  > ' " 

"  Often,  ma'am,  in  the  training-school." 

"The  what.?" 

"  The  school  for  crime,  where  I  learned  my  trade, 
a  steamboat  that  used  to  hang  round  New  York  in 
the  dark,  and  pick  up  pupils  at  different  wharves. 
Some  of  the  big  crooks  used  to  come  on  board,  and 
give  us  talks.  We  had  gambling  games,  and  all 
kinds  of  instruction  given.  We  kept  the  windows 
covered  on  account  of  the  harbour  police,  then  toward 
morning  we  went  ashore." 

Miss  Gastonguay,  trying  to  subdue  the  loathing 
that  overpoweied  her,  was  silent  for  a  few  seconds; 
then,  urged  on  by  the  inexorable  flight  of  time,  she 
lifted  her  eyelids,  and  burst  out  with  a  fascinated 
question,  '«  Did  you  ever  kill  any  one  .' " 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  I'm  a  business  criminal.' 

*'  What  drew  you  to  Rcssignol  > " 

He  laughed  stealthily.  "Curiosity,  ma'am.  I 
heard   the  place   had  some  sheep  worth   shearing, 


INTERVIEWS  HER  PRISONER, 


271 


;d 


and  then  our  biggest  swell  made  your  town  fa- 
mous." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

She  spoke  with  haughty  severity,  but  he  was  not 
impressed. 

"  Gentleman  George's  caper,  ma'am, — the  smartest 
bank  burglar  in  this  country  or  any  other.  This 
was  the  end  of  his  famous  New  York  e-lide,  when 
he  had  all  the  police  after  him.  I  guess  you  know 
him,  ma'am.  You've  got  some  souvenirs  of  him 
upstairs  in  that  drawer  of  yours." 

A  cold,  agonised  perspiration  broke  out  on  the 
inifortunate  lady's  forehead,  but  she  bravely  main- 
tained her  composure,  and,  as  if  he  had  noticed  noth- 
ing amiss,  her  prisoner  went  on,  flippantly.  "  He 
came  here  slap  after  the  big  Leslie  bank  haul  in  New 
York.  The  cops  suspected  him  and  broke  into  his 
house,  and  sure  enough,  they  found  his  workshop  for 
making  burglars'  tools.  They  were  red-hot  on  his 
track,  when  Gentleman  George  went  plump  down 
a  hole  in  the  earth,  and  they  lost  him." 

Miss  Gastonguay  could  not  speak,  but  made  a 
feverish  gesture  for  him  to  continue,  which  he  did, 
nursing  his  injured  foot,  and  staring  coolly  some- 
times at  her,  sometimes  at  the  increasing  light 
stealing  thiough  the  windows. 

"  The  hole  in  the  earth  was  here,"  and  the  young 
burglar  chuckled  at  the  remembrance.     "  Gentleman 


■ 


2^2 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


George  boarded  a  train  for  Maine,  dropped  into  this 
place,  grabbed  at  a  fat  mill-owner's  purse  in  broad 
daylight,  and  got  locked  up  here  for  a  fool  hobo, 
while  the  police  were  scouring  the  earth  for  him." 

Miss  Gastonguay  leaned  forward,  propped  her 
trembling  chin  on  her  hand,  and  ejaculated,  "What 
does  this  man  look  like  ? " 

"  I  guess  you  know  as  well  as  I  do,"  he  said 
with  quiet  impudence,  "but  in  case  you  haven't 
seen  him  for  a  spell,  I'll  say  he's  more  of  a  high- 
roller  than  ever.  You'd  think  him  the  latest  duke 
from  Europe." 

Miss  Gastonguay  subdued  her  almost  mortal 
agony.  "Go  on,"  she  said,  with  a  ghastly  smile. 
"Tell  me  some  more  about  this  criminal  life,  I'm 
^'nterested  in  it." 

"  Well,  ma'am,  I'll  talk  some  more  about  Gentle- 
man George,  for  he's  the  boy  for  my  money.  .  No 
one  knows  where  he  started  from,  unless  I  could 
make  a  guess  now,  but  he's  a  gentleman  born,  and 
welcome  in  every  hang-out  in  the  Union.  And  he's 
smart,"  and  the  young  man  swore  a  delighted  oath. 
"To  find  out  how  safes  were  made,  he  got  work 
with  the  Densmore  Safe  Company  till  there  wasn't 
a  lock  he  couldn't  duplicate.  And  he's  got  an  ear 
as  fine  hung  as  thistledovm.  By  the  turning  of  the 
dial  he  can  tell  at  what  numbers  the  tumblers  drop 
into  place." 


INTERVIEWS  HER  PRISONER. 


273 


"  Young  man,  what  do  I  know  about  tumblers  ? " 

"  Nothing,  v(i.i*am,  I'm  forgetting  you're  not  with 
us.  If  you  v/ant  to  know  about  Gentleman  George, 
he's  rolled  up  two  or  three  fortunes  by  bank-break- 
ing, but  he's  such  a  confounded  gambler  that  he  out- 
points himself." 

"  Where  is  he  now } "  articulated  Miss  Gastonguay, 
with  difficulty. 

"Now  that's  one  thing,  ma'am,  I  can't  tell  you. 
I'm  sorry  to  disoblige  a  lady,  but  it  can't  be  helped." 

"  Has  he  repented }  Is  he  leading  an  honest 
life  > " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  just  now  he  has  to.  The  police  are 
after  him  again.  He  breaks  out  in  spots,  then  he 
lies  low.  For  the  last  few  years  you  might  have 
heard  of  him  in  California,  in  Mexico,  in  Europe, 
always  in  big  hauls,  always  looting  something  worth 
looting.  There  was  the  California  Star  Bank  Vault 
robbery  where  he  got  a  clean  half  million,  the  Bel- 
gium Bank  affair — " 

"  Do  they  never  catch  him  "i  Is  he  never  shot  at, 
—  hurt?" 

"  Catch  him,  yes,  but  no  prison  holds  him.  He's 
got  good  friends.  After  the  California  swoop  they 
shut  him  up  in  jail,  but  he  had  a  partner  outside  who 
had  a  masked  hole  made  in  the  gate  of  the  jail.  Next 
day  Gentleman  George  broke  loose  from  a  marching 
line  of  convicts  in  the  jail  yard,  made  a  dash  for  the 


274 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


hole,  jumped  iiito  a  wagon  his  partner  had  waiting, 
and  got  out  of  the  way  in  double  quick  time." 

Miss  Gaston guay  had  had  about  all  she  could  en- 
dure. "Daybreak  is  coming,"  she  said,  abruptly. 
"  You  must  get  away ;  is  there  anything  I  can  do 
for  you } " 

"  You  could  give  me  ten  thousand  a  year,"  he  said, 
composedly ;  "  you  are  a  rich  woman,  you  would  never 
miss  It. 

'    "I  will  give  you  enough  to  get  to  some  philanthro- 
pists, who  will  teach  you  to  live  an  honest  life." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,  —  we've  got  enough  of  them 
in  New  York.  They  go  to  the  low-down  streets  and 
preach,  '  Lead  an  honest  life,  and  you  will  star  it 
through  the  world,'  but  no  fellow  those  praying  folks 
ever  took  has  got  as  high  up  in  the  sky  as  Gentlen:an 
George." 

He  is  your  model } " 

He's  the  biggest  man  in  America,"  said  her  com- 
panion, with  quiet  enthusiasm. 

"  How  old  are  you  ■* " 

"  Twenty-three." 

Her  convulsed  face  showed  that  she  pitied  him, 
and  with  his  small  and  ferret-like  eyes  gleaming  ap- 
provingly on  her  he  continued,  "  You're  a  lady,  ma'am, 
and  I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  aiming  at.  I  don't  want  to 
give  up  this  life.  If  I  did,  I  could  earn  ten  thousand 
dollars  to-morrow  by  going  to  the  detectives  in  New 


(( 


(( 


INTERVIEWS  HER  PRISONER. 


75 


York  and  splitting  on  Gentleman  George.  But 
I'm  not  anxious  to  play  spy.  I'd  be  found  out-  and 
I've  just  been  watching  a  young  crook,  that  turned 
States  evidence  in  a  Boston  jail,  come  out  and  go 
crazy  on  account  of  the  whole  gang  turning  against 
him.  He  slunk  round  the  streets  like  a  sick  cat, 
and  he  squealed  in  his  sleep.  No  one  spoke  to  him, 
and  he  died  in  the  horrors." 

"  Can't  you  run  away  from  them  } "  said  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay^  with  a  burst  of  impassioned  appeal.  "  Leave 
the  atmosphere  of  crime.     I'll  send  you  anywhere." 

"  Anywhere ;  I  don't  want  to  go.  Would  you 
be  happy  in  my  hang-out }  No,  ma'am.  Would  I  be 
happy  in  yours  }  No,  ma'am,  again.  You  rich  peo- 
ple don't  know  what  liberty  is." 

"  Liberty  —  liberty,"  she  repeated,  warningly.  "  A 
liberty  that  ends  in  a  prison." 

"  You  straight  people  make  queer  mistakes.  I'm 
a  better  lot  than  my  family.  They  don't  live  by  rule 
as  I  do.  They'll  lie  and  pick  at  small  truck.  They 
haven't  any  ambition.  I've  got  my  life  chalked  out. 
I'm  not  going  to  get  a  prison  face,  I  sha'n't  go  beyond 
the  limit." 

"  The  limit .?  " 

"  The  fifteen  or  twenty  year  limit.  If  you  keep 
out  of  jail,  well  and  good.  If  you  get  too  long  sen- 
tences your  health  breaks  down,  and  you  get  the 
shivers." 


1/6 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"What  are  they?" 

"  Nerves ;  you  think,  *  S'pose  the  cops  catch  me.' 
You  may  be  in  the  midst  of  a  fancy  job.  Everything 
in  you  trembles,  even  your  eyeballs,  and  you'd  best 
quit  and  run,  for  if  the  shivers  get  fastened  oi!  you, 
you're  no  good,  and  might  as  well  take  to  the  tomato 
can  tramps.  I'm  going  to  knock  off  before  I  get 
'em.  I've  been  lucky  about  jails  so  far,  and  if  you'll 
help  me  out  of  this  now  —  " 

He  spoke  suggestively,  and  Miss  Gastonguay  tried 
to  bring  back  her  strained  and  wandering  attention 
to  him.  "  When  you  go  away,  will  you  see  this  man, 
—  this  Gentleman  George  } " 

"I'm  sure  to  pretty  soon." 

"  Will  you  give  him  a  message  from  me  "i " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"Tell  him  that  though  the  mills  of  God  grind 
slowly,  yet  they  are  always  going.  Retribution  will 
come  —  " 

Her  severe  voice  faltered,  and  while  she  was  recov- 
ering breath  the  young  criminal  observed,  curiously, 
"  Gentleman  George  is  a  pretty  close  connection  of 
yours." 

She  saw  that  he  did  not  know  what  the  connection 
was,  and  would  not  enlighten  him. 

"  I  wish  you'd  let  me  carry  back  to  him  that  little 
shoe  mascot." 

"  Never." 


« 


INTERVIEWS  HER  PRISONER, 


277 


**  Most  all  gamblers  have  something  they  hang  on 
to,"  he  said,  with  a  disappointed  air.  "  Gentleman 
George's  shoe  is  known  by  all  his  pals.  It  used  to 
bring  him  luck,  and  when  he'd  be  caught  and 
searched  he  used  to  beg  to  have  it  back.  I  carry  a 
rabbit's  foot." 

Miss  Gastonguay  was  conscious  of  a  feeble  passing 
surprise  at  his  superstition,  but  she  was  not  able  to 
discuss  it,  and  pointing  to  his  foot  asked,  "  Can  you 
walk  on  it .?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  guess  you'll  have  to  provide  the 
means  of  locomotion." 

"  Come  out  to  the  stable,  then." 

"  First  let  me  return  some  of  your  property,"  and 
he  gallantly  extended  her  handsome  gold  watch  and 
chain. 

She  slapped  her  side,  "  I  had  it  here  just  now." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  wanted  you  to  see  how  easy  I 
could  get  it  from  you." 

"  Have  you  any  more  of  my  property  ? "  she  asked, 
harshly. 

"  Not  a  stiver.  We  tumbled  things  back  pretty 
quick,  when  we  found  Gentleman  George's  picture 
by  your  bed.  He'd  get  after  us  if  we  meddled  with 
you.     You're  not  his  sister,  are  you  ? " 

"Come  with  me  to  the  stable,"  she  responded. 
"  I  will  lend  you  a  horse.  Ride  him  to  any  of  the 
i)^ar  stations.     Dismount  when  you  get  there,  an4 


mi 


278 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


turn  him  loose.  Have  you  money  enough  for  a 
ticket  ? " 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

His  spirits  were  rising,  now  that  there  was  a  sure 
prospect  of  his  escape,  and  he  even  grinned  face- 
tiously at  Prosperity  and  Tribulation,  who  shrank  in 
dismay  from  him,  and  hid  the  musket  between  them. 

Miss  Gastonguay  went  swiftly  to  the  stable,  fol- 
lowed closely  by  the  limping  burglar,  and  at  a  little 
distance  by  her  two  servants.  A  few  minutes  later 
her  departing  prisoner  threw  her  a  civil  farewell  as 
he  clambered  on  the  back  of  the  tall  black  horse. 
"I'm  obliged  for  your  interest,  ma'am.  I've  talked 
pretty  freely  to  you.  If  you  ever  see  Gentleman 
George  again,  I  wish  you'd  speak  a  good  word  for 
me.     I'd  like  to  join  in  some  of  his  big  propositions." 

She  fell  back  in  disgust,  and  as  the  gray  morning 
swallowed  his  figure,  she  passionately  muttered, 
"Moral  obliquity, — just  like  the  other, — youthful, 
enthusiastic,  —  a  face  set  to  do  evil.     God  pity  him." 

With  hanging  head  she  went  slowly  to  the  house 
until  startled  into  a  peevish  exclamation  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  her  niece. 

"  Chelda,  what  are  you  doing  here  ? " 

•*  I  was  goirxg  to  see  if  our  prisoner  is  safe,"  re- 
plied the  your g  lady,  smoothly.  "  I  have  just  been 
telephoning  to  the  police  station." 

"  And  pray,  who  told   you  to  do  that }     This  is 


WHS 


INTERVIEWS  HER  PRISONER. 


279 


my  house.  Go  telephone  back  that  the  policemen 
are  not  to  come  until  I  send  for  them." 

"  Very  well,  aunt,"  she  replied,  submissively,  "  but 
can  you  stop  them  } " 

"  You  are  a  meddlesome  girl,"  said  Miss  Gaston- 
guay,  and  she  gave  relief  to  her  overwrought  feelings 
by  stamping  her  foot  at  her, 

Chelda  said  nothing,  but  her  expression  was  not 
a  pleasant  one  as  she  gazed  after  the  retreating 
figure.  "  You  let  that  burglar  go,"  she  murmured, 
revengefully,  "  why  did  you  do  it }  It  is  really  quite 
puzzling,  —  and  who  is  to  be  pitied }  One  should 
really  look  into  so  interesting  a  matter.  There  is  such 
a  lack  of  pity  in  the  world." 


It 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


CRIMINAL  RECORDS. 


There  was  great  excitement  in  Rossignol  over 
news  of  the  attempted  burglary  at  French  Cross,  and 
coupled  with  it  was  a  mild  indignation  at  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay  for  allowing  the  disabled  burglar  to  escape. 

She  was  saluted  by  a  volley  of  remonstrances 
from  every  friend  and  acquaintance  who  called  dur- 
ing the  day  to  offer  congratulations  on  her  safe  issue 
from  the  perils  of  the  night. 

"  Why  did  you  allow  him  to  hoodwink  you  ? " 
inquired  Mrs.  Jonah  Potts,  warmly. 

"  He  didn't  hoodwink  me,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay, 
obstinately,  "and  he  was  my  burglar,  I  had  ^  right 
to  do  what  I  liked  with  him." 

"  But  one  burglary  is  always  followed  by  another. 
He  will  be  breaking  into  our  houses  next." 

"He  will  not,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  wearily. 
"I  talked  the  matter  over  with  him.  He  will  at- 
tempt no  more  robberies  in  Rossignol." 

"  You  —  talked  —  with  —  him  !  "  ejaculated   Mrs. 

280 


CRIMINAL  RECORDS. 


281 


Jonah,  in  long-drawn-out  dismay.  "  With  —  that  — 
wretch ! " 

"  No  more  wretch  than  you  and  me.  He's  made 
of  the  same  flesh  and  blood.  He  steals  in  one  way, 
we  in  another." 

« I  —  steal !  " 

"  Your  husband  does." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Gastonguay.     Good  afternoon." 

"Don't  be  precipitate.  I  don't  mean  to  offend 
you.  Your  husband  ought  to  give  the  mill  hands  a 
share  in  his  profits." 

"  They  are  well  paid,  Miss  Gastonguay." 

"Well  paid.?  Would  you  like  to  change  places 
with  them  ? " 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Then  you're  stealing  from  them.  You  are  bound 
to  look  out  for  them.  Your  husband  needn't  give 
them  as  much  as  he  takes  himself,  for  he  supplies 
the  brains  and  they  only  the  labour,  but  for  charity's 
sake,  Dorinda  Potts,  go  and  visit  some  of  these  cot- 
tages where  children  are  pale  and  puny  from  lack  of 
the  necessities  of  life." 

Miss  Gastonguay  turned  away  to  another  caller, 
and  Mrs.  Jonah  went  uneasily  home. 

Jane  Gastonguay  was  haggard,  almost  broken 
down,  and  with  what  unusual  softness  had  she  spoken 
of  the  mill  hands.  The  tiny  seed  of  compassion 
stirred   restlessly   in  the   untilled  ^ound   of   Mrs. 


282 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


\ 


Jonah's  heart.  Some  day  it  would  grow  into  a  large 
and  generous  plant,  and  would  extend  its  healing 
leaves  over  some  unhappy  mortals  scorched  and 
tortured  for  lack  of  a  comforting  shade. 

The  young  burglar,  in  the  meantime,  sat  reading 
a  novel  in  a  parlour-car,  his  foot  comfortably  extended 
on  a  cushion,  his  ears  tingling  not. at  all  as  he  became 
more  and  more  of  a  topic  of  conversation  in  Ros- 
signol. 

Prosperity  and  Tribulation,  frightened  into  silence 
by  Miss  Gastonguay,  said  nothing  of  the  manner  of 
his  going ;  and  while  the  astute  police  of  the  town 
scoured  the  country  to  find  some  footprints  of  a 
limping  burglar,  the  black  thoroughbred  cantered 
gaily  homewards  with  hanging  bridle,  and  whinnied 
joyfully  as  the  coachman  greeted  him  with  a  peculiar 
smile. 

Justin  arrived  early  in  the  morning,  and  took  his 
wife  home.  He  was  considerably  alarmed  when  he 
heard  of  the  risk  she  had  run  in  attacking  two  full- 
fledged  burglars ;  but  so  full  of  glee  was  she  over 
his  return,  Miss  Gastonguay's  safety,  and  the  escape 
of  the  burglars  that  he  could  do  nothing  with  her  in 
the  way  of  extorting  a  promise  for  more  cautious 
behaviour  in  future. 

"It  is  your  own  fault  for  leaving  me,"  she  said, 
stopping  his  reproving  words  by  laying  her  soft 
cheek  against  his  lips. 


m 


CRIMINAL   RECORDS, 


283 


Justin  would  never  leave  her  again.  He  did  not 
say  so,  but  he  made  the  resolve  as  he  watched  her 
flying  about  the  house.  She  was  in  wild  spirits,  and 
when  evening  cam?  she  demanded  to  be  taken  up  to 
French  Cross  to  find  out  whether  Miss  Gastonguay's 
nerves  were  in  good  order  for  her  night's  sleep. 

He  willingly  complied.  He  had  only  had  a  brief 
jllimpse  of  his  wife's  aunt  in  the  morning,  and  he 
felt  a  eal  and  sympathetic  concern  with  regard  to 
her. 

Derrice,  without  waiting  to  take  off  her  wraps,  ran 
into  the  drawing-room  as  soon  as  they  reached  the 
old  chateau.  "  Dear  Miss  Gastonguay,  I  have 
thought  of  a  notice  for  the  newspapers.  —  ♦  Warning 
to  Burglars.  I,  Miss  Jane  Gastonguay,  truthfully 
declare  that  all  my  silver  and  gold  plate  and  other 
valuables  will  be  from  this  time  foiLh  locked  in  a 
burglar-proof  safe  during  every  instant  they  are  not 
in  use,  and  I  also  declare  from  this  time  forth  I  will 
only  keep  in  my  possession  enough  "money  for  daily 
expenditure.  The  rest  must  be  obtained  by  appli- 
caiion  to  Justin  Mercer,  cashier  National  Bank, 
Rossignol.' " 

Miss  Gastonguay,  still  pale  and  shaken,  became 
cheerful  as  Derrice  rattled  on.  "  There,  silly  child," 
she  said,  at  last,  "  go  take  off  your  cloak,  and  come 
talk  to  Chelda  and  Captain  Veevers.  They  seem  to 
be  having  a  dull  time  in  that  corner." 


284 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


I 


Derrice  did  as  she  was  told,  and  coming  back,  was 
quietly  appropriated  by  Captain  Veevers.  He  took 
a  keen  interest  in  criminal  law,  and  hoped  to  get  a 
full  account  of  the  attempted  robbery  of  the  night 
before,  but  Chelda,  instead  of  being  brilliant  and 
dramatic  this  evening,  was  strangely  vague  and 
unsatisfactory.  This  eager  girl  would  follow  his 
lead;  and,  calmly  ^)lacing  his  long,  lank  figure  in 
such  a  position  that  she  would  naturally  look  at  him 
rather  than  at  the  other  occupants  of  the  room,  he 
started  her  with  a  question,  "What  was  the  first 
sound  to  waken  you  last  night  ? " 

Chelda  took  up  her  embroidery  and  seated  herself 
within  hearing  distance,  and  in  a  spot  from  which 
she  could  command  a  view  of  Miss  Gastonguay  and 
Justin. 

The  latter  was  answering  questions  about  Mr. 
Huntington.  "Yes,  his  father  has  forgiven  him. 
The  man  knows  he  must  die  and  has  broken  down." 

"  And  what  is  Mr.  Huntington's  state  of  mind } " 

"  He  is  calmer,"  replied  Justin.  "  He  was  ill  for 
a  week  after  we  went  away,  —  slight  fever  and  light- 
headedness. I  have  brought  back  his  resignation 
from  the  pastorate  of  the  church." 

"  That's  a  good  thing ;  he  was  in  no  condition  to 
preach." 

"  He  will  come  back  sometime  for  a  visit,"  Justin 
went  on.    "  Through  me  he  sends  kind  messages  to 


fut 


CRIMINAL  RECORDS. 


2S5 


all  his  friends.  He  hopes  to  see  them  at  some 
future  time." 

As  he  spoke,  he  raised  his  voice  in  order  to 
include  Chelda  in  his  remark,  but  she  went  on 
serenely  with  her  work  and  mad*;  no  response. 

"  So  he  is  not  coming  back,"  mumbled  Miss 
Gastonguay,  "  not  coming  back,"  and  leaving  Justin 
she  began  an  aimless  ramble  about  the  room.  The 
restlessness  of  premature  old  age  was  upon  her,  and 
Chelda  waited  patiently  for  her  to  make  a  certain 
discovery. 

In  the  meantime,  Justin  Mercer  must  not  sit  there 
staring  so  persistently  at  the  little  manly  figure,  and 
rising  she  presented  to  him  in  a  natural  and  easy 
manner  the  evening  papers  from  Bangor  that 
Prosperity  had  just  brought  in. 

Justin,  glad  to  be  relieved  from  the  necessity  of 
talking  to  her,  buried  his  face  in  the  freshly  folded 
sheets,  just  as  Miss  Gastonguay  stopped  in  the  place 
where  Chelda  wished  her  to  stop,-  and  ejaculated, 
"  What's  this  ?  Who  has  rammed  this  volume  behind 
my  Rouen  bracket  ?  It  is  almost  impossible  to  get 
it  out.     Was  this  your  doing,  Chelda  ? " 

Chelda  lifted  her  long  black  eyelashes.  "Yes, 
aunt,  I  wanted  to  get  the  stupid  thing  cut  of  the 
way.  I  thought  it  was  a  ston;  when  I  bought  it,  but 
it  is  only  some  accounts  of  criminal  life." 

Justin's  paper  rustled  slightly  in  his  hand.   Chelda 


286 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


heard  it,  but  did  not  look  at  him,  neither  did  she  look 
at  her  aunt,  whose  sudden  subsidence  and  sudden 
click  of  her  eyeglasses  against  the  buttons  of  her 
house  coat  told  that  she  was  sitting  down  to  examine 
the  volume. 

For  some  time  there  was  silence.  Miss  Gaston^ 
guay  was  uttering  words  below  her  breath.  "  Crim- 
inals have  usually  chestnut  brown  eyes,  —  no,  not 
all  criminals,  only  thieves,  and  murderers.  How  in- 
teresting. What  is  this  ?  *  Career  of  the  most  cele- 
brated criminal  of  modern  times,  the  inventor  of  the 
modem  kit  of  marvellously  small  and  fine  burglars' 
tools  that  can  be  carried  in  a  hand-bag,  the  versatile 
Henry  Jones  alias  Thomas  Martin  alias  James  Smith 
and  half  a  dozen  other  aliases,  but  known  to  his 
confederates  as  Gentleman  George.  A  perfect  gen- 
tleman.* Gentleman,  indeed,"  she  repeated,  and 
v/ithout  the  quiver  of  a  muscle,  the  flutter  of  an 
eyelid,  she  ran  over  the  account  of  a  life  that  she 
knew  was  in  reality  the  life  led  by  her  long  lost 
brother. 

"Very  clever,"  she  ejaculated  when  she  had  fin- 
ished, then  raising  her  head  she  saw  that  her  niece 
and  Justin  were  both  gazing  at  her. 

"  You  made  a  mistake  not  to  study  these  worthies, 
Chelda,"  she  said,  ironically.  "  Just  listen,  —  ♦  Uncle 
Sam's  Hawkshaws  in  secret  service  work.  An  ingen- 
ious organisation  of  counterfeiters.     Thefts  of  valua- 


CRIMINAL   RECORDS. 


287 


bles.  Eight  hundred  post-offices  robbed  every  year. 
New  ones  constructed  with  peep-holes  enabling  de- 
tectives to  watch  clerks  and  carriers  at  work.  Secret 
passages  and  stairs  connected  with  basement.'  I 
wonder  what  century  we  are  in }  This  sounds  like 
the  Middle  Ages,  —  *  Extraordinary  tale  of  a  postal 
clerk  who  rifled  letters  by  his  sense  of  smell.'  I 
don't  wonder  he  could  smell  some  bank-notes.  But 
he  knew  fresh  ones,  too.  Clever  man,  and  misplaced 
ingenuity.  I  should  not  like  to  get  my  living  that 
way.  Come,  listen  to  this,  —  you  can  discover  a  bank- 
note in  an  envelope  by  drawing  a  thread  through 
with  a  knot  in  it." 

"  Can  you  ?  In  what  way } "  asked  Chelda,  without 
raising  her  head  from  her  work. 

"Some  of  the  fibre  paper  of  the  note  will  come 
out  with  the  knot.  Ah,  here  is  the  cut  of  a  sneak 
thief  who  dropped  his  hat  over  a  package  of  three 
thousand  dollar  notes  in  the  issue  room  of  the  Treas- 
ury and  carried  them  away  without  being  discovered. 
Here  also  is  a  lady  who  added  to  her  small  income 
in  the  redemption  division  by  raising  dollar  bills  into 
tens.  Accomplished  young  person,  —  sure  to  get  on 
until  discovered.  That  is  the  drawback  connected 
with  all  this  smartness.  My  dear,  don't  you  want  to 
go  into  opium  smuggling  ?  You  can  hollow  out  a 
cargo  of  logs  and  fill  them  with  the  drug  and  make 
your  fortune.     You  can  bribe  firemen  and  stokers  to 


288 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


hide  it  in  coal  where  it  is  almost  impossible  to  find 
it.  You  can  put  it  in  between  the  walls  of  state- 
rooms. You  can  drop  it  overboard  in  cans  with 
sinkers  and  floats  attached,  or  carry  it  in  buckets 
with  false  bottoms.  Perhaps,  though,  you  will  want 
to  go  into  the  diamond  business.  In  that  case,  you 
can  invest  abroad  in  the  gems  and  bring  them  to  this 
country  under  a  porous  plaster  on  your  back,  or  in 
the  heels  of  your  shoes,  or  inside  the  Paris  doll  you 
are  bringing  to  your  niece,  or  you  can  get  a  pet  peli- 
can and  feed  him  with  diamonds  until  his  pouch  is 
full.  Bah!  take  the  book  away,  —  it  sickens  me. 
No,  Derrice,  you  cannot  see  it.  You  are  too  young 
to  read  of  such  rascalities.  Captain  Veevers,  I  give 
it  to  you.     Take  the  pitchy  thing  out  of  my  house." 

"  What  would  you  do  with  those  people } "  asked 
Chelda,  softly  drawing  a  silk  thread  out  of  her  work. 

"With  what  people, — criminals,  you  mean?" 
asked  her  aunt. 

"  Yes, — those  low  creatures  who  prey  on  society  ? " 

"I  would  do  with  them  just  what  is  done  now; 
only  I  should  be  more  severe." 

"As  you  were  last  night,"  remarked  Chelda,  in  a 
low  voice. 

Her  aunt  did  not  hear  her.  She  was  addressing  a 
question  to  Derrice,  "Child,  suppose  all  the  crim- 
inals in  the  world  were  suddenly  thrown  into  your 
^hat  would 


power 


you 


CRIMINAL  RECORDS. 


289 


Derrice  had  some  time  ago  finished  her  conversa- 
tion with  Captain  Veevers,  and  had  been  listening  to 
the  extracts  from  the  book.  Her  face  now  glowed 
vividly  at  the  possibility  suggested.  "  Oh,  I  would 
put  them  all  together  —  no,  I  would  scatter  them.  I 
would  put  a  few  here,  a  few  there,  all  among  good 
people.     I  would  beg  them  to  change  —  " 

"And  suppose  they  would  not,"  pursued  Miss 
Gastonguay. 

"They  would  change,  dear  Miss  Gastonguay.  I 
am  sure  they  would,  but  if  there  were  some  who 
were  very  bad  I  would  have  a  nice  little  prison  for 
them  where  they  would  be  happy,  but  that  they 
could  never  get  out  of." 

Miss  Gastonguay  smiled  grimly,  and  turned  to 
Chelda.  "And  you,  my  niece,  what  would  you 
do } " 

Chelda' s  soul  was  steeped  in  the  very  bitterness 
of  hatred  as  she  surveyed  the  compassionate  face 
beyond  her,  but  she  gave  no  outward  sign  of  it,  and 
responded  with  her  usual  composure,  "  Such  people 
all  seem  like  vipers  to  me.  They  are  not  of  our 
kind.  I  should  not  allow  one  to  run  loose,  not  one. 
I  would  severely  isolate  them  so  that  they  might 
not  bite  me." 

"You  are  wrong  —  wrong!"  interposed  Derrice. 
"They  are  like  ourselves.  They  are  not  different. 
Once  when  I  was  going  along  a  street  in  New  York 


290 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


with  my  father  I  saw  a  poor  man  being  arrested. 
My  father  said  —  " 

She  stopped  short,  overpowered  not  by  the  re- 
membrance of  the  criminal,  but  by  her  loss  of  the 
dear  companionship  of  former  days. 

"  Well,  what  did  your  father  say } "  asked  Miss 
Gastonguay,  in  a  hard,  dry  voice. 

"  He  said,"  Derrice  continued,  with  difficulty,  "  he 
said,  *They  have  got  the  wrong  man.'  I  tried  to 
drag  him  forward  to  tell  the  policeman,  but  he  held 
me  back.  '  You  can't  get  the  real  criminal,'  he  told 
me.  '  Probably  you  would  have  to  dig  him  out  of 
some  grave.  This  man  is  what  his  parents  have 
made  him.' " 

"Now  that  is  not  so,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay, 
angrily,  "  that  is  nothing  but  a  lie.  I  say  degeneracy 
is  innate  in  some  mortals.     Nothing  takes  it  out." 

Derrice  scarcely  heard  her.  "  My  father  went  on 
to  tell  me,"  she  continued,  in  a  dreamy  voice,  "of  a 
man  he  once  knew  who  did  not  want  to  be  bad. 
There  was  something  in  him  striving,  protesting, 
fighting  with  evil,  but  he  had  no  powers  of  resist- 
ance. He  said  that  the  man  had  had  a  father  who 
indulged  him,  and  a  mother  to  whom  his  wish  was 
law,  because  he  was  her  youngest  child.  I  can 
remember  my  father's  very  words,  —  he  said  that 
the  child  was  encouraged  to  trample  on  domestic 
law,  and  when  he  grew  up  he  could  not  keep  the 


Em 


CRIMINAL  RECORDS. 


291 


public  law.  It  was  a  very  sad  case,  for  my  father 
almost  broke  down  when  he  told  me  of  the  spoiled 
boy  grown  up  and  going  raging  out  into  the  world. 
He  said  he  was  lost,  hopelessly  lost,  and  I  cried  dis- 
mally, for  my  father  said  that  I  might  have  met 
him,  or  if  not  him,  many  another  like  him,  in  the 
throngs  of  people  in  great  cities.  Would  you  call 
that  young  man  a  v^er } "  and  she  turned  to  Chelda. 

"  Yes,  a  viper,  a  degenerate,"  said  Chelda,  sweetly. 
"  I  dare  say  his  family  was  highly  respectable.  He 
had  probably  deceived  your  father.  We  make  our- 
selves." 

Derrice's  eyes  flashed.  She  forgot  the  new  orna- 
ment of  a  meek  and  lowly  spirit  that  she  had  lately 
put  on,  and  was  just  about  to  make  an  irritated 
retort  when  her  husband's  paper  rustled  again.  It 
called  her  attention  to  him.  She  felt  his  unex- 
pressed and  heartfelt  sympathy,  and,  choking  back 
her  emotion,  she  silently  sank  back  in  her  seat. 

Miss  Gastonguay  had  left  the  room,  ostensibly  to 
see  why  Prosperity  had  not  brought  in  the  tea  on 
the  stroke  of  ten. 

She  met  him  in  the  hall,  but  she  did  not  turn 
back.  "Tell  them  I  have  gone  to  bed,"  she  said, 
shortly.  "I  have  a  headache."  Then,  going  on 
her  way  up-stairs,  she  soliloquised,  wearily,  "Not 
heredity,  but  environment.  Environment  only,  — 
then  are  my  skirts  clean  ?    Louis  was  nine  —  no,  ten 


d9^ 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


—  when  our  mother  died.  I  had  a  hand  in  his  up- 
bringing. Bah!  I  will  not  believe  it.  Not  envi- 
ronment, say  I,  but  heredity  only.  Heredity  and 
individual  responsibility.  There  is  bad  blood  in  the 
family.     He  knows  it  as  well  as  I  do." 


o 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


11 


WHEN    A    MAN  S   HAPPY. 


April  drifted  after  March.  May  came,  then  June 
and  July,  and  with  them  the  opening  of  the  summer 
hotels  on  the  Bay,  and  the  usual  influx  of  visitors. 

Derrice  was  very  much  occupied  now.  She  knew 
nearly  all  the  residents  of  the  town,  and  a  great 
many  of  the  visitors,  and  Justin  was  obliged  to  check 
her  in  her  too  great  devotion  to  literary  clubs  and 
social  gatherings,  and  to  work  for  the  church  of 
which  she  was  now  a  zealous  member. 

With  more  pleasure  than  he  had  ever  before  ex- 
perienced in  holiday-making  in  his  busy  life,  he  often 
started  from  home  with  her  in  the  morning,  and 
installing  her  in  his  blue-lined  boat  would  row  across 
the  Bay  and  out  its  mouth  to  the  wild  and  rocky 
shore  beyond. 

Out  there  were  green  islands,  white  villages  hidden 
in  smiling  coves,  passing  ships,  and  many  excursion 
boats.  He  knew  well  every  point  of  interest,  but 
each  successive  discovery  was  a  new  pleasure  for 
Perricei  and,  lill^  with  the  rapture  of  explorationi 

m 


■  - 


294 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


she  would  urge  him  on  until  the  shades  of  evening 
warned  them  to  return. 

In  spite  of  her  appreciation  of  the  world  outside 
the  Bay,  she  liked  better  the  five  small  rivers  with 
the  Indian  names  that  went  leaping  merrily  down 
into  it.  Only  one  was  navigable,  —  its  rapids  were 
far  up,  —  and  of  this  one  she  never  tired.  Day  after 
day  when  bank  hours  were  over  she  begged  Justin 
to  conduct  her  to  it,  and  when  she  found  herself 
alone  with  him  in  its  sylvan  solitudes  she  invariably 
fell  into  a  state  of  mental  intoxication. 

With  her  hat  off,  one  hand  trailing  behind  her  in 
the  cool  black  water,  shafts  of  sunlight  flickering 
down  between  jealous  leaves  that  endeavoured  to 
screen  from  them  the  flaxen  head  and  white  dress, 
she  babbled  joyous  self-revealings  whose  lightest 
phases  were  treasured  by  the  quiet  young  man  who 
sat  opposite  her. 

She  was  as  free  and  as  gay  as  the  fishes  below, 
the  birds  above,  or  the  shy  wild  creatures  peeping 
timidly  at  her  through  the  underbrush.  Why  had 
she  b'jen  given  to  him }  Would  he  ever  lose  her } 
He  was  not  worthy  of  such  a  blessing !  And  some- 
times he  trembled  in  an  excess  of  happiness  that  was 
not  happiness  until  he  had  tortured  himself  with 
some  suggestion  of  pain. 

When  she  gently  rallied  him  on  his  seriousness,  he 
explained  that  at  all  times  he  experiei«ced  the  deep- 


} 

I 

t 


WHEN  A   MAN'S  HAPPY. 


295 


est  awe  when  in  the  presence  of  works  fresh  from 
the  hands  of  the  Creator.  A  budding  tree,  an  open- 
ing flower,  charmed  him  into  an  ecstasy  beyond 
expression,  and,  although  only  vaguely  comprehend- 
ing this  ecstasy,  she  would  smile  sweetly  and  relapse 
into  silence  herself. 

Sometimes  she  would  motion  to  him  to  change 
the  boat's  course.  He  did  not  at  all  times  care  to 
run  into  the  lively  picnic  parties  from  the  hotels,  the 
sole  thought  of  whose  members  was  to  utilise  the 
most  exquisite  retreats  of  the  river  for  purposes  of 
eating  and  drinking.  Yet  he  was  glad  to  see  them 
come,  —  all  those  strangers  who  made  Rossigno!  so 
prosperous.  He  was  an  enthusiast  on  the  subject  of 
the  development  of  his  native  State,  and  talked  at 
length  to  Derrice  of  the  great  tide  of  travel  floating 
ever  northward,  of  the  millions  of  dollars  brought 
annually  into  the  State  by  summer  visitors,  of  the 
building  of  hotels  and  cottages,  and  of  the  quantity 
of  game  slaughtered  in  the  wildernesses  up  the  great 
rivers.  Al^  these  were  sure  and  certain  signs  that 
his  beloved  Pine  Tree  State  was  to  become  more  and 
more  the  pleasure-ground  and  place  of  relaxation  for 
the  denizens  of  other  States  less  favoured  by  nature. 

Derrice  always  listened  intently,  then  becoming  a 
greater  enthusiast  than  he  was  himself,  she,  to  his 
diversion  and  gratification,  retailed  among  the  many 
strang^ers  thronging  the  place,  not  only  what  he  had 


r 


II 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


told  her,  but  also  a  vast  deal  of  miscellaneous  infor- 
mation that  she  collected  relating  to  the  industrial 
progress  of  the  State,  its  old  and  successful  enter- 
prises and  its  new  and  tentative  ones. 

The  comparatively  new  sardine  industry  she  was 
most  interested  in,  first  on  account  of  Captain 
White's  connection  with  it,  and  secondly  because 
she  had  in  her  Sunday  School  class  some  young 
"dressers"  from  the  factories. 

She  begged  Captain  White  to  conduct  her  over 
one  of  the  factories,  and  in  great  good-humour  he 
complied  with  her  request,  whereupon  for  some  days 
she  discoursed  learnedly  of  the  various  methods  of 
catching  and  packing  the  wary  herring,  of  the  dif- 
ference between  home-made  "  Russians  "  and  foreign 
"  Russians,"  of  "  bar,"  "  channel,"  and  "  shore 
weirs,"  and  of  other  technical  matters  that  filled  her 
husband  with  amused  admiration 

She  was  essentially  domestic  and  home-loving  in 
her  instincts,  and  Justin  was  amazed  at  the  rapiJIty 
with  which  this  new  trait  in  her  character  had 
developed. 

She  had  submitted  to  a  wandering  life  on  account 
of  the  innate  sweetness  of  her  disposition,  and  be- 
cause she  had  known  no  other  life.  Happy  row  in 
the  love  of  her  husband  and  the  cooperation  and  not 
obstruction  of  her  mother-in-law,  she  was  gathering 
around  her  a  circle  of  staunch  friends,  and  her  dear* 


WHEN  A   MAN'S  HAPPY. 


297 


est  wish  now  was  to  attract  within  this  circle  the 
father  whose  absence  was  the  one  dark  spot  in  her 
life. 

Would  he  ever  come  ?  He  had  partly  promised 
her  to  do  so,  but  she  rejoiced  in  fear  and  trembling 
over  the  partial  promise,  for  her  husband  preser\ed 
an  ominous  silence. 

Poor  unhappy  wanderer.  There  was  no  quiet 
haven  for  him.  His  bark  had  been  trimmed  for 
stormy  seas.  He  had  cast  behind  him  his  last 
anchor  to  peace  and  respectability.  The  dearer  his 
idol  to  him,  the  farther  must  he  keep  from  it,  and 
Justin's  heart  grew  sick  as  he  contemplated  future 
possibilities. 

In  mid-July  the  first  boating  carnival  of  the  season 
took  place.  The  Casino,  already  too  ornate  but 
reembellished  every  year,  was  a-flutter  with  flags ; 
guests  poured  from  the  hotels,  and  Captain  White, 
standing  on  a  wharf  with  eyes  screwed  up  in  the 
blight  sunshine,  quizzically  watched  the  procession 
of  young  men  and  girls  filing  into  place  under  the 
snowy  canopies  of  the  white-draped  boats. 

He  waited  until  the  boats  like  a  bevy  of  white 
swans  went  dipping  and  gliding  out  to  the  Bay,  then 
he  hurried  home  as  fast  as  his  feet  would  carry  him 
to  relate  this  latest  bit  of  news  to  the  partner  of  his 
bosom. 

He  found  her  in  &  sedate  attitude  beside  one  of 


298 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


the  open  windows  of  the  dining-room.  Existence 
had  recently  shed  its  dull  gray  hues  for  the  ^f'te  Mrs. 
Prymmer  and  present  Mrs.  White,  and  had  taken 
on  an  exquisite  tint  of  rose-colour.  She  was  perme- 
ated with  bliss,  absorbed  in  admiration  tor  this  pecul- 
iar man.  her  sailor-cousin.  She  was  superlatively 
happy  in  his  presence,  superlatively  lonely  in  his 
absence.  He  fascinated  and  entertained  her.  He 
was  never  still,  never  dull!  Was  always  laughing, 
joking,  teasing,  —  why,  she  might  be  a  young  girl 
judging  by  the  amount  of  attention  he  paid  her,  and 
in  placid  rapture  she  listened  to  his  statement  that 
he  had  taken  in  the  carnival  on  his  way  home  from 
the  canneries. 

"  Did  it  look  pretty,  Micah  >  " 

"  TiCtty }  —  a  hundred  thousand  pretties.  !  say 
there  is  no  sight  ahead  of  a  flock  of  girls  dressed  in 
white,  with  flowers  in  their  hair,  sitting  in  boats  that 
look  like  nests  of  snow.  They  might  have  been 
angels.  Hippy,  let  right  down  out  of  the  sky,  and  our 
Derrice  was  the  cutest  of  all.  Hello,  there's  the 
postmai's  ring.  I'll  go,"  and  he  rushed  from  the 
room. 

Mrs.  WTiite  put  down  her  knitting,  and,  resting 
one  elbow  on  the  window-sill,  enjoyably  inhaled  the 
delicious  perfume  from  her  garden  of  roses  be- 
low. 

"  Only  a  newspaper  for  me,  Hippy,"  said  her  hus- 


WHEN  A  MAN'S  HAPPY. 


299 


band  coming  back.  "Just  stop  talking  for  a  few 
minutes,  will  you?" 

As  Mrs.  White  since  her  marriage  rarely  opened 
her  mouth,  this  injunction  was  an  easy  one  for  her 
to  obey,  and  she  again  turned  her  attention  to  the 
roses  until  her  husband  began  to  kick  out  his  feet 
and  to  exhibit  other  signs  of  mental  disquiet. 

"  You're  wondering  what's  the  matter  with  me, 
Hippy } "  he  said,  at  last. 

"  Yes,  Micah." 

"  I  believe  I'll  tell  you,"  he  said ;  "  let  me  look  at 
you." 

Emitting  light  without  heat,  his  dancing  eyes 
played  over  her  face.  "  You've  nothing  to  hide  from 
me.  Hippy  .^ "  he  said,  at  last.  "  Your  heart  lies  bare 
before  me,  just  like  that,"  and  he  made  some  cabalis- 
tic signs  on  his  palm. 

"  Does  it  ? "  she  replied,  tranquilly,  then  she  asked, 
with  some  anxiety,  "  What  is  worrying  you,  Micah  } " 

"  I'll  tell  you,  —  I'll  cleave  my  mind  open  just  like 
a  herring.  You'll  not  tell  what  you  see  inside,  —  will 
you  hold  my  feet  while  I  talk } "  and  he  tentatively 
laid  one  slim  ankle  across  her  lap. 

"Yes,  seeing  you  are  troubled  with  rheumatism, 
I  will,"  she  said,  affectionately  smoothing  his  in- 
step. 

"Stop  that,  —  you're  tickling  me,"  he  ordered, 
then  he  went  on.     "  Hippy,  are  you  happy  ? " 


f  I 


300 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  You  know  I  am,"  she  said,  phlegmatically. 

"  Do  you  like  me  bet*;er  than  you  liked  Zebedee 
Prymmer  ? " 

«  Yes,  Micah,  I  do." 

"  Better  than  Sylvester  Mercer  ? " 

She  hesitated,  not  in  any  doubt  of  her  own  feel- 
ings on  the  subject,  but  from  anxiety  as  to  the 
propriety  of  answering  such  a  question. 

"  Do  you  ?  "  he  asked,  peremptorily. 

"Sylvester  is  dead  and  gone  to  heaven,"  she  re- 
marked, with  extreme  amiability. 

**  Yes,  —  peace  to  his  ashes,  —  he'll  not  care. 
Answer  me.  Hippy." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  blushing  and  bridling  a  trifle.  "  I 
like  you  better  than  Sylvester." 

"  Do  you  like  me  better  than  Justin  ? " 

She  nervously  leaned  over  and  picked  a  hair  off 
his  coat  sleeve.      Surely  this  was  a  cruel  question. 

"  Do  you  like  me  better  than  Justin  ? "  he  repeated, 
tyrannically. 

She  did,  but  she  did  not  like  to  say  so. 
*  "Go  on.  Hippy,"  he  commanded.     "You're  dead 
honest  now,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  she  winspered,  with  hanging  head. 

"  Kiss  me,"  he  said,  unexpectedly. 

She  meekly  embraced  him,  then  his  countenance 
cleared,  and  he  vouchsafed  her  an  explanation.  "  I 
just  wanted  to  make  sure  of  you,  dear.    This  is  a 


■«r 


WHEN  A   MAN'S  HAPPY. 


301 


serious  matter,  and  women's  tongues  are  such  deli- 
cate things  that  a  secret  trembles  off  them  as  if  they 
were  oiled.  I've  known  a  woman  mad  with  another, 
—  so  mad  that  she'd  vow  to  die  rather  than  tell  her 
a  certain  thing  that  would  be  to  her  interest  to  know, 
yet  she'd  run  faster  than  a  deer  and  tell  her  that 
very  thing." 

"  Some  vuiiicn  are  as  safe  as  a  bank,"  observed 
Mrs.  White,  mildly. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  and  you're  one  of  them.  Listen 
now,  till  I  make  those  plump  ears  of  yours  rustle 
with  curiosity,  —  you  see  this  newspaper }  " 

«  Yes,  Micah." 

"  I  sent  to  Boston  for  it.  What  do  you  suppose 
I  did  that  for  > " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Do  you  remember  seeing  Derrice  come  in  a  week 
ago  with  some  books  wrapped  up  in  a  newspaper  ? " 

"No,  Micah." 

"Well,  she  did,  and  I  picked  up  the  paper,  and  in 
that  paper  was  a  piece  cut  out." 

"  Was  there  >  " 

"  Yes,  and  if  there's  one  thing  more  than  anoth  er 
that  stirs  the  old  Adam  in  me  it  is  for  a  man  to  hand 
me  a  paper  with  a  piece  cut  out." 

"  But  a  man  didn't  hand  you  this,  did  he  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  that  don't  matter.  The  piece  was  gone. 
I  turned  the  paper  over.     I  found  written  on  it, 


302 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


*Miss  Chelda  Gastonguay,  Rossignol.'     Now,  what 
do  you  suppose  was  my  next  move  ? " 

"You  tried  to  get  another  like  it." 

"Precisely.  You  caught  your  fish  that  time.  I 
sent  to  Boston  for  another  copy  of  that  same  paper. 
Now,  here's  the  ad.  that  was  cut  out.  I've  marked  it 
with  my  pencil.    Read  it.  Hippy." 

«  '  H.  Robinson,  private  detective,  lo  Smith  Street, 
Boston.  All  communications  strictly  confidential. 
Secret  and  expeditious  service. '  " 

Mrs.  White  was  in  the  dark,  and  without  a  word 
returned  the  newspaper  to  him. 

"  Now,  what  does  a  young  lady  in  Chelda  Gaston- 
guay's  position  want  with  a  thing  like  that?"  he 
asked,  severely. 

"  Perhaps  she  didn't  want  it." 

"  She  did.  The  paper  was  addressed  to  her.  She 
cut  the  ad.  out.  I'll  shift  my  ground  a  little.  Hippy. 
What  makes  this  same  young  lady  come  to  this 
house  so  much  } " 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  replied  his  wife,  with 
some  warmth.     "  She  don't  like  me." 

"  Does  she  come  here  to  look  at  my  lovely  coun- 
tenance ? " 

His  wife's  face  was  a  study.  She  tried  not  to 
express  resentment,  she  tried  to  think  graciously  of 
the  absent  Chelda,  but  her  effort  was  not  crowned 
with  success. 


WHEN  A   MAN'S  HAPPY. 


303 


"You  feel  just  the  least  little  bit  mad  with  her> 
Hippy,  don't  you?"  asked  Captain  White,  kindly, 
"  because  she  don't  treat  your  husband  as  if  he  was 
king  of  this  castle." 

Mrs.  White  did  not  speak,  hut  her  hand  again 
encircled  his  arched  and  aristocratic  instep,  and  this 
time  she  was  not  checked. 

Captain  White  burst  out  laughing.  "  It's  queer 
how  these  human  beings  play  at  fox  and  geese  with 
each  other.  The  stunning  Chelda  thinks  it  a  mighty 
condescension  to  come  here,  and  be  friendly  with 
Justin  and  Derrice.  She  thinks  it  don't  matter 
about  you  and  me,  but  if  she's  up  to  any  tricks,  we'll 
trap  her  yet.  Hippy,  that  girl  comes  here  for  no 
good.     I've  watched  her,  and  I'm  sure  of  it." 

His  wife's  expressic^  gradually  changed  to  one 
of  mild  protest  against  this  suspicion. 

"You're  a  good  woman,"  he  said,  appreciatively. 
"You  don't  want  to  be  sneaky,  and  I  don't  want 
to  set  you  to  spy  on  another  woman,  but  if  we  let 
ourselves  be  fooled  too  easy,  we  are  fools.  Now 
Derrice  ain't  the  kind  to  smell  any  kind  of  a  rat  but 
an  honest  rat,  nor  is  Justin  blessed  with  a  much 
smarter  nose  in  the  Gastonguay  direction,  but  I 
know  something  of  that  lot.  They've  cut  some 
pretty  tricks  here  in  Rossignol,  and  I  say,  don't  shut 
your  eyes  too  tight  when  there's  any  of  'em  round, 
and  keep  your  nose  wiggling  just  like  a  rabbit's. 


r 

1 

io4 


DEFIClkNT  SAINTS. 


That  Chelda  has  got  some  object  in  coming  here, 
for  she  hates  us  all,  kit  and  bunch,  and  without 
running  afoul  of  the  sacred  laws  of  hospitality,  I 
want  you.  Hippy  White,  to  keep  one  of  those  hand- 
some gray  eyes  of  yours  on  her,  'cause  you're  older 
than  your  daughter-in-law,  and  know  more  of  the 
world." 

"I  can't  stop  her  from  coming  here,  Micah.  I 
like  Jane  Gastonguay." 

"  Jane  Gastonguay's  all  right.  She  ain't  Gaston- 
guay at  all.  She's  Harpe*,  like  her  grandmother's 
folks,  and  you  let  her  niece  come  here  all  she  likes, 
but  keep  a  kind  of  oversight  of  her,  the  way  we 
do  the  weather  after  close  time.  Now  do  you 
understand  ? " 

"Yes,  Micah;  but  what  do  you  think  she  is  up 
to?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  gloomily. 
"  Micah,"  she  said,  with  some  timidity,  "  I've  »jot 
a  kind  of  worry  about  Derrice's  father.  Sylvester 
was  always  so  short  about  him,  and  what  makes 
Derrice  never  write  direct  to  him,  but  always  send 
her  letters  to  some  friend  in  New  York  .?  And  why 
don't  he  show  himself  here  if  he  is  so  fond  of  his 
daughter  ?  He  hasn't  any  business  to  do  that  I  have 
ever  heard  of.  And  what  did  he  want  to  make  Jus- 
tin marry  her  for  ?  I  thought  maybe  he  wanted  to 
get  rid  of  her,  but  I  guess  he  likes  her  well  enough." 


WHEN  A   MAN'S  HAPPY, 


305 


"  You've  got  questions  enough  there  to  keep  you 
busy  for  some  time,  Hippy,  but  'pon  my  word,  I 
believe  you've  got  the  clue.  There  is  something 
queer  about  the  father,  and  Chelda's  on  the  track 
of  it." 

"  The  witch !  **  ejaculated  Mrs.  White,  in  mild 
indignation.     "  What  has  Derrice  done  to  her } " 

"What  made  that  young  high-stepper  next  door 
go  away  ? " 

"  I  guess  he  wanted  to  get  rid  of  his  church.  He 
acted  as  if  he  despised  us." 

"  I  guess  he  wanted  to  get  rid  of  Chelda  Gaston- 
guay,  and  I  guess  Derrice  and  Justin  helped  him 
off.  And  what  kind  of  a  feeling  do  you  suppose 
Miss  Chelda  has  inside  her  when  she  sees  her  old 
aunt  petting  Derrice  ? " 

"Well,  why  don't  she  keep  out  of  their  sight,  if 
she  don't  like  it  ? " 

"That's  where  she's  clever,  my  dear.  A  jealous 
woman's  jealousy  will  slip  into  as  many  shapes  as 
there  are  pebbles  on  the  beach.  Sometimes  it's  a 
sea-monster.  Sometimes  it's  2  sly  little  eel,  —  will 
you  watch  this  particular  eel  "i  " 

"•Of  course,"  she  replied,  in  a  tone  that  showed 
surprise  that  there  should  be  any  question  about 
it. 

He  threw  off  his  anxiety,  and  fell  into  an  immediate 
ecstasy.      "It's  my  belief,  Hippolyta  White,  that 


^o6 


JbEfilCl£NT  SAINTS. 


th6re  airi*t  one  triite  of  happiness  in  the  world  for  the 
average  man  till  he  gets  one  thing." 

"  What  is  it  ? "  she  asked,  demurely. 

**  Some  woman  to  bosss  just  as  he  likes ;  none  of 
your  up-standing,  high-headed  creatures  that  won't 
bear  a  curb,  but  a  nice,  modest,  good  pink  of  perfec- 
tion little  creature  just  like  —  just  like  —  " 

"  Like  Derrice,"  continued  his  wife,  with  as  roguish 
an  accent  as  late  middle  age  could  attain. 

"Like  you,"  he  roared,  leaning  forward  and  giv- 
ing her  a  resounding  and  loving  smack  on  her  ruddy 
cheek. 

Surprised  by  her  sheepish  expression,  he  looked 
round  and  found  Justin  regarding  him  with  a  dubious 
expression  from  the  doorway. 

The  young  man  did  not  like  to  see  his  mother 
holding  Captain  White's  feet,  and  furthermore,  to  see 
her  taking  such  evident  pleasure  in  the  honour. 

"  I've  got  rheumatism  most  gripingly,"  explained 
Captain  White,  lifting  the  offending  members  to  the 
floor,  and  twisting  his  face  in  pretended  torture. 
"  By  the  way,  you're  to  take  your  boat  and  meet 
young  missis  down  at  Gull's  Island,  where  the  carni- 
val suppers.  She  wants  to  come  home  with  you, 
and  left  that  message.  Whew!  there's  a  strange 
cat  in  the  garden,"  and  forgetting  his  rheumatism, 
he  darted  from  the  room,  and  went  to  whistle  the 
intruder  over  the  fence. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 


AN    INVITATION    TO    A   PICNIC. 


During  the  fine  summer  weather  Miss  Grastonguay 
spent  a  great  part  of  her  time  on  horseback. 

Her  straight  figure  was  becoming  bent,  her  short 
grizzled  hair  was  more  thickly  mixed  with  white,  her 
hand  was  less  steady  than  it  used  to  be,  yet  she  per- 
sisted in  her  long  rides,  and  for  miles  around  Rossi- 
gnol  the  farm'^rs*  wives  would  run  to  the  window  as 
they  saw  her  pass,  and  exclaim,  "There  goes  the 
rich  old  lady  from  the  Bay,  with  her  niece  and  her 
pony  dog." 

The  latter  was  the  name  by  which  the  Fairy  Prince? 
was  known,  and  he  did  indeed  look  like  a  lazy  dog  as 
he  trotted  far  in  the  rear  of  the  tall  black  steeds  on 
which  his  mistress  and  her  niece  were  mounted. 

If  the  weather  were  too  warm  for  his  liking,  he 
often  pulled  up  at  some  of  the  farms  where  he  was 
known,  and  where  he  was  sure  of  a  welcome  from 
adm.'ring  children.  There  he  would  await  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay,  and  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  joyfully 
rejoin  her,  and  return  to  his  stable  and  his  epicurean 
diet 


ji   I 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 

One  day,  when  far  from  home,  Miss  Gastonguay, 
who  happened  to  be  alone,  met  Justin  Mercer,  who 
was  also  on  horseback,  his  face,  however,  being  set 
toward  Rossignol,  while  hers  was  away  from  it. 

She  reined  in  her  beautiful  black  animal  with  an 
imperative  "  Where  have  you  been  ? " 

«« To  Cloverdale  on  business.  A  farmer  who  is  ill 
sent  for  me." 

«*  What  is  your  wife  doing  ? " 

«  She  is  yachting  to-day." 

"  What  with  hei  shore  dinners,  and  her  clambakes, 
and  drives,  and  sailing  parties,  and  golf,  and  tennis, 
and  visits  to  the  poor,  I  never  see  her  now,"  grum- 
bled Miss  Gastonguay.  "  I  want  her  to  myself  for 
one  afternoon.  Will  you  all  come  up  next  Thursday 
and  have  a  picnic  in  my  woods  ? " 

Justm  assured  her  that  they  would  be  glad  to 

do  so. 

"  And  have  your  mother  come,  and  that  extraordi- 
nary man,  her  husband." 

Justin's  b?g  white  teeth  gleamed  approvingly,  then 
a  silence  teli  between  them.  They  were  on  the  sum- 
mit of  a  bluff  one  hundred  feet  above  a  flat,  white 
beach.  As  from  the  height  of  some  battlement  they 
looked  out  on  a  wide  blue  stretch  of  water.  The 
view  was  one  of  exquisite  peace  and  beauty,  yet  Miss 
Gastonguay's  eyes  came  drearily  back  to  her  com- 
panion's quietly  happy  face. 


I  * 


#  i 


AN  INVITATION  TO  A   PICNIC. 


309 


"  You  don't  let  that  child  spend  any  of  the  wan- 
derer's money?" 

«*  Not  a  cent." 

"  That's  good,  but  how  do  you  explain  your  econo- 
mies .vhen  she  knows  he  has  money  ? " 

« I  don't  explain  them  fully." 

"  And  she  submits } " 

"Yes." 

"  You  must  have  been  very  much  in  love  to  have 
married  the  daughter  of  such  a  man,"  sh.'  said,  with 
a  curious  wonder  in  her  voice. 

He  had  been,  but  he  said  nothing,  and  quietly 
restrained  his  horse,  which  was  impatiently  pawing 
the  ground  in  the  direction  of  Rossignol. 

"  You  are  not  willing  for  me  to  give  her  presents," 
Miss  Gastonguay  went  on. 

"  I  had  rather  you  would  not  do  so." 

She  left  him  with  as  little  ceremony  as  she  had 
greeted  him  ;  and,  with  all  'the  gladness  taken  from 
the  bright  summer  afternoon,  he  went  sadly  on  his 
way. 

Miss  Gastonguay  was  not  an  old  woman,  yet  she 
was  breaking  up.  The  discovery  that  her  long-lost 
brother,  whom  she  had  hoped  wa;5  dead,  was  living 
as  a  prey  upon  society  had  humbled  her  pride  and 
broken  her  spirit.  The  black  shadow  of  disgrace 
hung  continually  over  her,  and  Justin  uneasily  won- 
dered whether  he  had  done  right  to  give  her  the 


SI 

!  \ 


3IO 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


shock  that  had  eaten  the  heart  and  comfort  out  of 
her  life. 

He  thought  he  had.  He  had  fulfilled  his  duty; 
he  had  kept  his  promise  to  the  unhappy  man  who 
wished  his  daughter  to  come  under  the  protection  of 
the  sister  so  long  separated  from  him.  This  had 
afforded  Miss  Gastonguay  the  consolation  of  Derrice, 
and  a  day  might  come,  a  day  would  come,  he  feared, 
when  her  ministrations  and  forgiveness  might  be 
needed  for  the  wanderer  himself.  It  was  better  for 
a  woman  of  her  temperament  to  have  time  to  brood 
over  a  matter  than  to  have  it  suddenly  announced  to 
her. 

Then,  too,  in  spite  of  her  trouble,  she  had  become 
softened,  —  more  womanly,  less  hard,  —  and  she  had 
gained  either  an  additional  devotion,  or  a  wonderful 
simulation  of  it,  from  her  elder  niece,  the  one  upon 
whom  she  had  lavished  her  wealth  and  affection  for 
so  many  years. 

Derrice's  sudden  establishment  of  empire  over 
Miss  Gastonguay  had  struck  a  spark  of  jealousy  from 
Chelda's  cold  heart.  To  counterbalance  this  influ- 
ence she  had  partly  abandoned  her  selfish  and  soli- 
tary mode  of  life,  and  had  given  herself  up  to  her 
aunt.  To  please  her  she  cultivated  Derrice ,  to 
please  her  she  shunned  the  summei  visitors  among 
whom  she  usually  found  congenial  associates.  True, 
she  was  possibly  becoming  more  deceitful ;  but  if  sh^ 


AN  INVITATION  TO  A  PICNIC. 


311 


were,  Justin  could  not  help  it.  He  had  done  what 
he  thought  was  right,  and  he  must  patiently  await 
results.  It  was  an  involved  affair.  Only  one  thing 
was  clear ;  and,  as  he  went  quickly  on  his  way,  his 
horse's  hoofs  seemed  to  beat  from  the  hard  and  stony 
ground  the  inexorable  words  :  "  Retribution,  retribu- 
tion,—  for  one  man's  sin  many  must  suffer." 

Upon  reaching  home,  he  made  ha.  te  to  deliver 
Miss  Gastonguay's  invitation,  lest  any  member  of 
the  family  should  make  other  arrangements  for  the 
day  mentioned. 

His  mother  was  tranquilly  pleased,  Derrice  was 
delighted  ;  for  Miss  Gastonguay  had,  since  the  sum- 
mer began,  shown  a  perverse  inclination  to  keep  to 
herself,  and,  although  glad  to  see  her  at  French 
Cross,  had  not  favoured  her  with  many  special  in- 
vitations. 

Captain  White  was  non-committal  until  urged  by 
his  wife  to  make  some  re'sponse.  "  Of  course  I'll 
go,"  he  then  said.  "  Haven't  I  been  longing  for  a 
small  picnic  all  summer  ?  I  hate  those  caravans  of 
ihings  where  food  and  people  are  all  jumbled  up 
together." 

Accordingly,  after  an  early  dinner  on  Thursday, 
the  Mercer-White  household  set  out  in  an  electric 
car  for  French  Cross. 

They  found  Miss  Gastonguay  waiting  for  them  on 
the  steps  of  the  ch&teau.     «  Chelda  isn't  going,"  she 


312 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


said.  "Some  tiresome  person  is  coming  to  see 
her." 

At  that  moment  the  young  lady  herself  made  her 
appearance,  and  politely  expressed  her  regret  that 
she  was  unable  to  accompany  them. 

"Such  a  stupid  thing,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay, 
impatiently.  "  One  would  think  Chelda  was  an 
advertising  agency,  —  but  come,  we  might  as  well 
be  going." 

Chelda  stood  watching  them  filing  through  a  gate 
in  the  wall  that  led  to  a  garden  acros^^^  w^  '"  was  a 
short  cut  to  the  wood.  No  one  was  sorry  that  she 
was  not  going,  and  all  had  been  too  honest  to  profess 
a  disappointment  that  they  did  not  feel.  Only  Derrice 
had  uttered  a  surprised  and  regretful  "  Oh,  we  shall 
miss  you,  Miss  Chelda." 

Chelda  did  not  resent  their  lack  of  interest.  She 
was  utterly  indifferent  to  the  good  or  the  bad  opinion 
of  any  one  in  Rossignol,  and  she  calmly  continued  to 
watch  them  until  a  sudden  impulse  made  her  sau  v  ir 
after  them. 

Captain  White  had  placed  himself  beside  hf. 
aunt,  and  as  they  went  through  the  gate  she  heard 
him  say,  "  I  know  you're  often  en  the  lookout  for  a 
situation  for  some  man,  and  if  you've  got  an  able- 
bodied  fellow  in  mind  f  might  get  him  in  as  a  sealer, 
—  wages  three  dollars  a  day." 

*•  This  is  some  city-bred  man  that  is  coming  to  see 


I 


AN  INVITATION  TO  A   PICNIC. 


313 


4 

) 

Chelda/'  said  Miss  Gastonguay.  **  What  is  his 
name?"  and  she  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  her 
niece. 

"  Smith  or  Jones,  or  something  of  the  sort." 

"  Robinson  —  that's  it,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay. 
"  Sc^e  friend  of  Chelda  wrot"2  her  about  him.  Miss 
Rose,  wasn't  it .' "  and  she  turned  again. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Chelda,  pleasantly ;  "  she  wrote  me 
some  long  story  about  this  man.  I  think  she  said  he 
had  been  a  butler  in  their  family.  I  really  forget  what 
it  was,  for  I  lost  the  letter.  If  she  wishes  employment 
for  him,  I  wonder  she  did  not  apply  to  you,  aunt." 

"  And  his  name  is  Robinson  ? "  asked  Captain 
White,  carelessly. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  he  telegraphs  to  Chelda  as  big  as  a  lord," 
continued  Miss  Gastonguay.  "Will  call  on  you 
Thursday,  at  3  p.  m.,'  — a  peremptory  butler  that." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  hard  up,"  suggested  Captain 
White. 

To  his  regret  the  conversation  was  here  broken 
off,  for  Derrice  exclaimed,  suddenly,  "  Can't  we  go 
through  the  graveyard  } " 

The  old  French  cemetery,  with  its  graves  cluster- 
ing  around  the  hill  on  which  gleamed  the  marble  cross, 
was  a  little  to  their  left,  but  Miss  Gastonguay  will- 
ingly made  the  detour.  Justin  did  not  go  in.  He 
stood  silently  by  the  gate,  his  gaze  wandering  after 


■i   I 


314 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


his  wife.  Dear  little  feet  slipping  so  reverently 
between  the  grassy  mounds.  How  far  was  their 
owner  from  suspecting  her  relationship  to  the  weary 
sleepers  below ! 

Lingeringly  she  went  from  one  marble  slab  to 
another,  touching  with  gentle  fingers  the  flowers  laid 
upon  them,  or  pausing  to  read  the  inscriptions  carved 
to  the  memory  of  Gastonguays,  De  Lisles  or  De 
Saint  Castins. 

The  small  cemetery  was  exquisitely  kept.  Miss 
Gastonguay  possessed  an  aiinost  Chinese  reverence 
for  the  last  resting-places  of  her  ancestors,  and  one  of 
her  favourite  occupations  was  to  pace  slowly  to  and 
fro  in  the  green  enclosure  that  had  almost  fallen  into 
oblivion  when  she  began  her  reign  at  French  Cross. 

Justin  saw  that  her  piercing  glance  was  bent 
approvingly  on  his  wife,  and  that  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears  when  Derrice  knelt  beside  the  tiniest 
grave  of  all,  —  that  of  a  little  child  Gastonguay, — 
and  tenderly  laid  on  it  a  rose  that  she  took  from  her 
breast.  There  was  a  lamb  on  the  grave,  a  sculptured 
lamb  of  white  Maine  granite,  and  above  towered  a 
colossal  figure  in  flesh-red  stone  of  the  founder  of 
the  house,  —  stout-hearted  Louis  Gastonguay,  who 
stood  as  in  life,  his  back  to  the  sea,  his  trusty 
musket  in  his  right  hand,  his  left  pointing  urgently 
toward  the  interior  of  the  vast  country  whose  explo- 
ration was  the  chief  topic  of  conversation  in  his  day. 


AN  INVITATION  TO  A   PICNIC 


315 


\ 


Derrice  and  me  lamb,  and  old  Louis  and  his 
musket,  stood  in  fine  contrast.  Chelda,  looking  on 
and  suppressing  her  disdain,  could  not,  however,  con- 
ceal from  Justin  her  conviction  that  his  wife's  atti- 
tude was  one  chosen  for  subtle  effect  rather  than  one 
of  unstudied  simpHcity.  He  smiled  slightly,  called 
Derrice,  and  the  picnic  party  took  up  its  way  to  the 
wood,  while  Chelda  returned  to  the  house. 

She  was  not  lonely,  although  she  had  never  in  her 
life  been  as  much  cut  off  from  society  as  she  was 
this  summer.  She  despised  Rossignol,  she  disliked 
the  people  in  it.  Only  one  person  had  made  the 
place  endurable  to  her,  and  that  person  had  been 
driven  from  her.  She  had  now  but  one  desire,  —  to 
accomplish  her  vengeance,  to  sec  Derrice  unhappy, 
one-tenth  as  unhappy  as  she  was,  —  and  then  to  take 
her  aunt  to  some  place  nearer  the  man  without  whom 
her  life  was  unendurable. 

He  would  never  return  to  Rossignol,  she  felt  per- 
suaded of  that.  She  had  been  patient  and  steal*'" y 
in  waiting  for  the  time  to  come  when  she  might  go  in 
search  of  him,  and  something  told  her  that  this  time 
was  now  approaching. 

Her  interview  to-day  would  probably  close  her 
dealings  with  H.  Robinson,  and  calmly  making  her 
way  to  the  library,  she  took  up  a  book  and  sat  down 
to  await  his  coming. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 


IN   THE   FRENCH   CROSS   WOOD. 

In  early  days  old  Louis  Gastonguay,  who  had  no 
mind  to  be  teased  by  the  Indians  as  were  other  less 
shrewd  settlers,  purchased  from  a  band  of  Penobscots 
their  summer  camping-ground,  consisting  of  a  strip 
of  beautiful  woodland  extending  along  the  river  bank 
behind  his  log  cabin. 

To  ensure  peaceful  possession,  he  paid  what  was 
considered  an  exorbitant  price  for  two  hundred  acres 
of  land,  but  time  proved  that  the  price  he  paid  was 
not  a  ruinous  one,  for  during  the  long  Indian  wars 
not  a  Gastonguay  lost  his  scalp,  though  there  were 
some  members  of  his  family  little  liked  by  the  red 
men. 

This  wood  had  been,  through  successive  genera- 
tions, the  pride  of  the  Gastonguays,  and  it  had  been 
cleared  and  embellished  by  various  members  of  the 
family  until  at  this  time  it  was  famed  throughout 
the  State  for  its  combination  of  natural  and  artificial 
beauty. 

Miss  Gastonguay  and  her  guests  strolled  in  a  lei- 
surely way  through  its  shady  alleys,  crossing  aixd 

316 


IN  THE  FRENCH  CROSS  WOOD, 


317 


recrossing  at  intervals  the  one  broad  avenue  that  ran 
through  it.  The  sun  was  hot  overhead,  but  protect- 
ing pines  and  spruces  interposed  verdant  and  shel- 
tering arms,  and  gently  waved  toward  the  pedestrians 
a  river  breeze  that  caught  and  carried  to  them  a 
dozen  spicy  odours  from  the  forest  paths. 

Justin  went  with  his  ^.at  in  his  hand,  his  mother 
on  his  arm.  Captain  White  kept  up  an  animated  con- 
versation with  his  hostess,  who  seemed  to  have  some 
particular  attraction  for  him,  while  Derrice,  with  the 
pony,  wandered  erratically  behind,  sometimes  in  the 
path,  sometimes  far  from  it,  in  search  of  some  shy 
wild  flower  that  had  stretched  out  a  slender  neck  to 
look  at  them,  and  then  had  vainly  tried  to  hide  itself 
from  her  vandal  fingers  behind  some  leafy  fern. 

The  pony  adored  Derrice,  and  he  was  greatly  in- 
terested in  the  wild  flowers.  As  i.e  stood  with  his 
delicate  hoofs  planted  in  mossy  beds,  his  fat  knees 
hidden  by  branching  brakes,  he  often  extended  his 
head  over  her  shoulder,  and  if  he  approved,  by  his 
sense  of  smell,  of  the  blossom  she  was  gathering,  he 
immediately  appropriated  it  as  a  dainty  morsel  for 
his  own  delectation. 

•  .  Derrice  playfully  slapped  his  face,  and  finally  tak- 
ing off  her  beflow3red  nat  perched  it  on  his  head, 
whereupon,  having  something  else  to  think  of,  he  left 
her  alone  and  stood  sheepishly  waiting  for  her  to 
rejoin  the  rest  of  the  party. 


■Hi 


318 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


After  a  time  she  threw  an  arm  over  his  neck  and 
hurried  after  the  others.  Miss  Gastonguay  had 
been  lookmg  for  her  herd  of  tame  deer,  but  was  just 
giving  up  the  quest.  "  It  is  too  hot,"  she  said,  "  they 
have  probably  gone  across  the  swamps.  Shall  we 
sit  here  ? "  and  she  indicated  a  circular  seat  about  an 
enormous  oak-tree. 

"  Have  you  ever  favoured  Derrice  with  the  story 
of  this  tree } "  asked  Justin,  as  they  sat  down. 

"  I  believe  I  have." 

"Yes,  ever  so  long  ago,"  said  Derrice,  shaking 
the  sunbeams  from  her  uncovered  head.  "  See  if  I 
have  it  right,  —  the  Gastonguays  in  Revolutionary 
time  warmly  espoused  the  cause  of  the  colonies. 
They  considered  one  of  their  sea  captains  a  traitor, 
so  they  tied  him  to  this  tree  and  whipped  him 
soundVr  until  he  took  an  oath  of  fidelity  to  his  coun- 
try, and  promised  to  fight  against  the  *  Bands  of 
Tyranny,*  whose  *  Plodding  Pates '  had  long  pro- 
jected methods  to  enslave  his  countrymen.  He  toc^ 
the  oath  and  they  set  him  Idose,  and  drank  several 
draughts  of  toddy  with  him  and  lived  in  *  Peace  and 
Harmony  *  ever  after.  I  saw  the  record  in  the  French 
Cross  attic.  Dear  Miss  Gastonguay,  tell  some  other 
stories  of  the  olden  times." 

Miss  Gastonguay  happened  to  be  in  a  humour  for 
reminiscences,  and,  without  further  persuasion,  she 
launched  into  a  recital  of  her  family  hist(^y  through 


IN  TRB  FRENCH  CROSS  WOOD. 


JI9 


the  cruel  Indian  wars,  the  days  of  painful  adversity 
that  fell  upon  the  colony,  the  stirring  episodes  <rf  the 
Revolutionary  War,  and  the  War  of  the  Rebellion, 
in  which  four  Gastonguays,  who  served  in  the  gal- 
lant First  Maine  Regiment,  were  killed  and  buried  in 
Southern  soil. 

"You  forgot  about  the  black  day  of  1780,"  Der- 
rice  reminded  her  when  she  stopped. 

Miss  Gastonguay  patiently  went  back  and  related 
the  story  of  her  family's  sudden  exodus  from  Ros- 
signol  during  a  brief  occupancy  by  the  British,  of 
their  sojourn  in  the  wilderness,  and  of  their  fright  on 
a  certain  dark  day  when  candles  were  lighted  at 
noon,  and  the  whole  country  sat  in  terrified  expec- 
tancy of  the  sudden  ending  of  the  world.  This  story 
ended,  she  closed  her  lips  and  refused  to  talk  fur- 
ther. 

"  It  is  too  fine  to  sit  still,"  said  Captain  White, 
who  had  been  listening  to  Jier  words  with  breathless 
interest,  but  who  found  the  spell  broken  when  she 
ceased  to  speak.  "  I'm  going  up  river  to  see  if  that 
old  prison  is  still  scowling  at  your  property  with  its 
hangdog  face.     Does  any  one  want  to  go  ? " 

"I  do,"  said  Derrice,  springing  up  and  catching 
her  hat  from  the  pony  who  had  been  standing  with 
pink  ribbons  hanging  foolishly  over  his  ears.  "  Won't 
you  come,  Miss  Gastonguay  ? " 

"Not  to  that  place." 


320 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


11 


"Why  not? —  the  river  is  superb  from  there." 
Miss  Gastonguay  obstinately  shook  her  head 
Never  again  in  her  life  would  she  look  on  the  old 
red-shingled  buUding.  "Perhaps  I'll  come  to  meet 
you,"  she  said,  when  Derrice  made  no  pretence  at 
concealing  her  disappointment. 

"  I  guess  you'd  better  stay  behind,  too,  Hippolyta," 
said  Captain  White  to  his  flushed  spouse.  "  You  look 
as  if  you'd  been  having  a  staring  match  with  old  Sol 
and  he'd  beaten  you.     What  are  you  for,  Justin .? " 

"  Nothing,  but  to  be  let  alone,"  said  the  young 
man,  enjoyably.     He  had  stretched  himself  out  on 
tne  bench  behind  the  giant  tree,  and  only  his  head 
was  visible  to  the  people  on  the  other  side  of  it. 
•  "Takeoff  your  glasses  and  rest  your  eyes,"  said 
Derrice,  going  to  him  and  putting  his  spectacles  in 
his   pocket.     "We  won't   be   long,"  and,  surrepti- 
tiously kissing  the  ear  in  which  she  whispered  the 
words,  she  hurried  after  her  escort,  who  was  walking 
briskly  along  with  both  elbows  cutting  the  air  in  his 
usual  fashion. 

"They're  as  lively  as  two  mosquitoes,"  observed 
Mrs.  White,  amiably. 

"And  I'm  as  sleepy  as  an  owl,"  said  Miss  Gaston- 
guav  "  I  haven't  been  resting  well  lately.  If  you'll 
hold  your  tongue  for  ten  minutes,  Hippolyta  Piym- 
mer,  or  rather  Wbite,  I  believe  I'll  drop  off,"  and  she 
drowsily  laid  her  head  against  the  hard  tree  trunk. 


W  THE  FRENCH  CROSS  WOOD. 


in 


"  I  guess  I'll  copy  you,"  said  Mrs.  White,  phleg- 
matically,  but  in  making  her  arrangements  for  a 
nap  she  selected  a  spot  where  pine-needLs  most 
thickly  strewed  the  ground. 

Justin  laughed  in  his  sleeve,  but  in  two  minutes 
he,  too,  had  joined  the  ladies  in  a  brief  nap,  and 
only  the  pony  was  k.c  to  gaze  amiably  from  one 
sleeper  to  another,  and  guard  them  from  intruders. 


I 


i  \ 


- 

t 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE   PICNIC   AND   THE   OLD   PRISON   WELL. 

Derrice  and  Captain  White  jogged  merrily  on. 
"Do  you  know  what  makes  Justin  so  sluggish?" 
asked  the  latter,  after  a  time. 

"Yes,  he  sat  up  last  night  with  that  poor  sick 


man. 


>» 


"Sick! — crazy  drunk,"  reflectf  er  companion. 
"  Justin  don't  tell  her  everything,  and  thank  Heaven 
she  ain't  curious.  She  don't  guess  Bob  Wallis  put 
in  the  night  trying  to  brain  her  husband  with  the 
lamp,  and  run  him  through  with  the  poker,  and  play 
any  other  pesky  tricks  on  him  that  came  in  his 
mind.  Justin  had  to  keep  his  eyes  open  to  keep 
alive.  Soho,  this  is  a  bad  world,"  and  he  gazed 
keenly  into  the  depths  of  the  underwood,  where  he 
thought  he  saw  a  pair  of  liquid  brown  eyes. 

It  was  Orono,  Miss  Gastonguay's  pet  moose,  whose 
age  was  seven  months,  and  whose  weight  was  four 
hundred  pounds.  He  would,  however,  not  come  at 
Derrice's  coaxing,  and  they  plunged  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  thicket  after  him. 

322 


WBmk,. 


THE  PICNIC. 


323 


"  Go  on,  don't  turn  your  back  on  a  few  trials," 
Captain  White  encouraged  Derrice,  and  finally  they 
emerged  scratched  and  breathless  upon  the  high  river 
bank,  where  Derrice  ruefully  surveyed  her  torn  gown. 

Captain  White  laughed  at  her,  drew  from  his 
pocket  the  key  Miss  Gastonguay  had  given  him, 
and  unlocked  the  padlocked  gate  in  the  high  fence 
bounding  the  wood. 

They  were  now  on  town  property,  and  almost 
opposite  them  was  the  prison.  The  river  here  took 
a  sudden  bend,  and  the  old  red  building  crowned, 
or  rather  disfigured,  a  slight  eminence  on  a  spur  of 
land  running  out  in  the  water. 

Its  ugly  old  face  did  indeed,  as  Captain  ^\^lite 
said,  scowl  at  the  surrounding  landscape,  and  its 
most  malevolent  glances  were  bestowed  on  the  mag- 
nificent property  of  French  Cross  that  followed  so 
smoothly  the  curve  and  graceful  lines  of  the  wan- 
dering Rossignol.  The  sullen,  low-browed  structure 
was  fortunately  going  to  ruin.  Many  years  had 
elapsed  since  the  prisoners  had  been  removed  from 
it  to  a  smart  new  building  of  gray  Albert  freestone, 
erected  in  the  centre  of  the  town. 

The  windows  were  broken  in,  there  were  great 
holes  in  the  overhanging  roof  that  was  placed  like 
an  extinguisher  atop  of  the  red  walls,  yet  the  prison 
WctS  in  its  decay  a  more  favourite  haunt  of  the  towns 
people  than  it  had  been  in  its  prime. 


324 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


I    i 


I      M 


Owing  to  its  s'.tuation,  the  view  from  its  ruinous 
tower  was  far-reaching  and  unique.  It  Mras  the 
vantage-ground  from  which  to  survey  the  towers  and 
steeples  of  Rossignol,  the  opening  of  the  verdant 
Bay,  French  Cross  and  the  wooded  country  beyond, 
and  more  extensive  still,  the  low  green  fields  across 
the  river,  swelling  up  to  the  fertile  farms  and  beautiful 
rolling  country  stretching  far  away  to  the  horizon. 

Derrice  and  Captain  White  entered  the  prison 
yard,  once  high-walled  and  guarded  by  a  ponderous 
gate,  but  now  broken  down  as  to  its  walls,  and  un- 
protected as  to  its  gate,  that  lay  ignominiously  on 
its  side,  spurntid  by  the  foot  of  every  passer-b}'. 

They  went  lightly  over  the  gate  and  across  the 
wide  yard,  then,  entering  the  tumble-down  door, 
looked  into  a  small  room  on  the  right,  formerly  the 
office  for  receiving  and  discharging  prisoners. 

"  No  prison  smell  now,"  said  Captain  White,  sniff- 
ing the  air.  "The  wind  of  heaven  blows  through 
empty  sashes.  See  tLat  three-legged  table  hipping 
into  the  comer.  You've  had  to  come  down  in  the 
world,  old  fellow.  Many  a  time  I've  seen  unlucky 
fellows  propping  themselves  against  you.  Now 
you'd  be  glad  of  a  leg  yourself." 

"Dear  Captain  White,"  cried  Derrice,  "don't, 
don't  speak  of  those  days.  I  love  to  think  of  this 
place  as  deserted,  th,  prisoners  dead  or  happy. 
Don't  tell  me  stories  about  them." 


THE  PICNIC. 


325 


"All  right,"  he  returned,  gallantly.  "We'll  say 
angels  dwelt  here.  Poor,  misguided  angels  with, 
a  dash  of  saints  among  'em  —  Just  wait  a  bit  before 
you  go  up  aloft.  I've  not  been  here  for  some  time. 
I  want  to  have  a  look  at  the  old  feeding-place,  —  beg 
pardon,  their  dining-saloon,"  —  and  advancing  along 
the  corridor  he  struck  his  fist  against  a  door,  massive 
in  appearance,  but  in  reality  rusting  on  its  hinges, 
and  yielding  readily  to  his  assault. 

"  This  is  where  they  used  to  be  sprawling,  or 
rather  reclining,  when  you  came  in,"  he  said,  indica- 
ting a  small  space  dominated  by  open  galleries. 
"  Black.,  white,  and  gray,  in  their  dirty  prison  dress, 
or  rather  their  beautiful  white  gowns,  with  their 
pretty  wings  folded  so  tight  you  couldn't  see  'em. 
They  manage  these  houses  of  detention  for  martyrs 
differently  now,  thank  Heaven.     Come  on  here,  little 

girl." 

He  walked  for  some  distance  below  the  hanging 
galleries,  resounding  so  often,  in  days  gone  by,  to 
the  heavy  tramp  of  prisoners  marching  to  their  cells. 

"  It  was  in  here  they  feasted,"  he  said,  indicating 
a  long  dismantled  room.  "Can't  I  see  *em  now, 
poor  devils,  each  with  his  bowl  of  porridge  and  spoon  1 
No  knives  because  they  got  into  a  nasty  little  habit 
of  laying  open  each  other's  blessed  visages.  Look  at 
the  rats  banqueting  here,  whoop  1 "  and  he  jumped 
and    frightened  a  squeak  from  an  old  graybeard 


326 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


darting  by  him,  and  caused  Derrice  to  fall  back  and 
shriek  nervously. 

"  Silly  child,"  he  said,  penitently,  "  you  shouldn't 
be  so  nervous.  Let's  get  out  of  the  ugly  hole," 
and  he  made  rapidly  toward  the  stone  staircase  at 
the  other  end  of  the  building. 

Derrice  ran  after  him,  then  drank  in  the  view 
from  the  tower,  until  he  challenged  her  to  a  return 
race  to  the  old  well  in  the  prison  yard.  The  handi- 
cap in  their  race  was  twenty  seconds,  yet  he  made  a 
wild  rush  by  Derrice  on  the  staircase,  and  when  she 
arrived  at  the  goal  he  was  leaning  coolly  on  the 
broken  well  rim. 

She  sank  breathlessly  on  a  heap  of  stones,  and 
after  laughing  at  her  he  wheeled  and  stared  into  thf; 
well  that  had  long  since  gone  dry. 

"I'd  like  to  know  what's  down  there,"  he  said. 
"  It  used  to  be  a  famous  chuck-hole  with  the  blessed 
martyrs.  Every  little  while  the  prison  authorities 
had  to  clean  it  out  to  the  tune  of  several  bucket 
loads  of  souvenirs." 

"  But  what  about  polluting  their  supply  of  drink- 
ing water  ? "  asked  Derrice,  rising,  and  also  leaning 
over  it. 

"Jack-knives  and  letters  and  photographs  and 
jewelry  wouldn't  poison  them  —  Hello,  what  are  you 
trying  to  do  ? " 

"  Oh,   my   watch,  my  watch  I "  uttered   Derrice, 


THE  PICNIC. 


327 


with  a  cry  of  despair.     '  The  watch  my  father  gave 


me." 

"  What  did  you  throw  it  down  there  for  ? " 

"I  didn't  throw  it.  It  slipped  from  my  belt. 
What  shall  I  do .? "  and  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

Disturbed  by  a  kicking  of  the  stones,  she  pres- 
ently raised  her  head,  and  saw  Captain  White  taking 
off  his  coat.  «  You  must  not  try  to  get  it,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  You  might  slip.  Wait  until  you  get  a 
rope." 

"  That's  what  I'm  going  for,"  he  replied.  "There's 
a  carpenter's  cottage  over  there  on  the  road.  You 
stay  here,  and  I'll  soon  be  back." 

He  bounded  away  like  a  deer,  and  in  a  short  time 
returned  with  a  man  almost  as  active  and  lithe  as  he 
vas  himself. 

"  I  guess  I'm  the  most  of  a  cat,"  he  said,  measur- 
ing his  companion  by  a  glance.  "  You  hold  the  rope 
and  I'll  go  down." 

"  Oh,  do  be  careful,"  entreated  Derrice.  "  Those 
stones  may  be  loose.  I  had  rather  lose  my  watch 
than  have  one  of  them  roll  on  you." 
.  "We're  agreed  then.  I've  no  ambition  to  turn 
into  a  pot  of  jelly,"  and  he  cautiously  poised  himself 
on  the  shaky  well  mouth. 

The  whole  structure  was  loose  and  crumbling,  and 
every  stone  or  brick  touched  took  a  malicious  pleas- 


328 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


W 


ure  in  falling  upon  him.  In  his  haste  he  scratched 
his  hands  considerably  in  his  descent,  and  upon 
arriving  below  had  to  move  about  with  extreme 
caution. 

"Whew!"  he  exclaimed,  as  a  brick  put  out  the 
candle  he  had  just  lighted,  and  then  fell  on  his  toes. 
"  I  must  be  brief." 

A  swing  of  his  light,  a  rapid  flash  of  his  eyes, 
and  he  gave  the  signal  to  be  lifted  above. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  extending  the  watch  to  Derrice 
as  he  crawled  up  to  brightness.  "  It's  pretty  well 
battered,  but  you  can  have  it  mended.  Don't  wear  it 
in  such  a  mighty  careless  place  again." 

She  thanked  him  fervently,  lent  him  her  handker- 
chief to  tie  around  one  of  his  bleeding  hands,  and 
then  accompanied  him  back  to  the  wood. 

As  soon  as  they  entered  the  gates  they  saw  Miss 
Gastonguay  coming  to  meet  them.  Her  surprised 
glance  went  from  one  to  the  other.  Derrice  was 
torn  and  dishevelled,  and  her  hair  was  tumbling 
about  her  shoulders ;  while  Captain  White  was 
decidedly  battered  in  appearance,  and  added  a  slight 
limp  to  his  usual  gait. 

"  Have  you  been  in  a  fight  ? "  she  asked. 

"  No,  no,"  laughed  Derrice,  "  first  in  a  spruce,  then 
in  a  bramble  thicket,  and  afterward  Captain  White 
went  down  a  well.     See  how  his  hands  are  bleeding, 

and  oh,  let  me  tell  you  about  my  watch." 


^1 


THE  PICNIC. 


329 


Miss  Gastonguay  listened  in  silence  to  the  tale  of 
the  misadventure ;  then  she  handed  the  bruised  orna- 
ment back  to  Derrice  and  remarked,  "  You  say  your 
father  gave  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  m .  dear,  dear  father." 

"  Let  me  have  it  when  you  have  finished  exhibit- 
ing it,  and  I  will  send  it  to  my  jeweller  in  Bangor." 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,"  said  Derrice,  squeezing 
her  hand.     "  And  now  may  I  run  on  to  tell  Justin  } " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  shortly.  "  You 
will  find  him  in  the  gazeebo." 

Derrice  tapped  the  pony  on  the  neck  by  way  of 
challenging  him  to  keep  up  with  her,  and  went  with 
flying  feet  toward  Miss  Gastonguay's  gazeebo,  which 
was  a  summer-house  situated  in  a  clearing  by  the 
river. 

The  pony  went  with  her,  for  he  knew  that  supper- 
time  was  approaching,  and  Miss  Gastonguay,  left 
alone  with  her  guest,  walked  silently  on  beside  him. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  few  seconds  he  drew  a  small 
object  from  his  pocket,  with  a  calm,  "  I  found  some- 
thing beside  Derrice's  watch  down  the  well." 

"  Did  yau  }  "  she  said,  politely. 
•  "  Yes,  —  something  with  the  Gastonguay  crest  on 
it.  The  watch  was  lying  snuggled  up  to  it  just  as  if 
it  had  gone  down  there  to  find  it.  There  was  only 
this  one  clear  place  on  the  top  of  a  flat  rock.  The 
rest  was  choked  with  rubbish.     I  guess  *.he  ring  had 


ff 


330 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


{I 


been  down  for  some  time/'  and  he  handed  the  small 
article  to  her. 

Miss  Gastonguay  glanced  sharply  at  him.  His 
expression  was  composed,  and  by  no  means  curious. 
He  gave  the  ring  to  her  as  if  she  had  a  right  to  it, 
but  he  seemed  to  have  no  desire  to  question  the 
strangeness  of  its  discovery. 

"  Did  you  tell  Derrice  ? "  she  asked 

"  No." 

"  How  do  you  suppose  it  got  there } " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  guess  some  thief 
stole  it  and  on  his  way  to  be  searched  chucked  it  in 
there." 

"It  is  a  man's  seal  nng,"  she  said,  turning  the 
discoloured  ornament  round  and  round  in  her  fingers. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  see  that." 

She  stared  at  him  from  head  to  foot.  He  was 
walking  lightly  and  swiftly  beside  her  in  spite  of  his 
limp.  She  struggled  with  some  emotion.  "  I  have 
seen  you  all  my  life,  —  have  always  known  you  well ; 
yet  lately  you  seem  to  dawn  on  me  with  a  strange 
familiarity.  Tell  me,  is  there  any  reason  for  my 
suspicion  —  "  , 

He  stopped  short  in  his  halting  walk  and  blushed 
with  the  faint,  evanescent  blush  of  composed  middle 
age.  Then  he  said,  shortly,  "There  is,  ma'am, 
you've  caught  something  you  might  have  caught 
before  if  you'd  had  any  dealings  with  me.     I  guess 


THE  PICNIC. 


331 


Derrice  has  started  you  in  it  by  bringing  us  to- 
gether." 

"  Then  some  of  the  blood  of  this  imhappy  family 
does  run  in  your  veins." 

"A  little,"  he  said,  modestly.  "It  ain't  a  pretty 
subject  to  talk  over  with  a  lady,  but  you  understand 
the  Gastonguays.  You  know  that  ever  since  the 
priests  hauled  old  Louis's  sons  and  the  young  De 
Saint  Castins  over  the  coals  for  lying  in  bed  in  the 
mornings  and  keeping  the  Indians  waiting  about  the 
truck-house  and  then  selling  'em  rum  in  buckets, 
that  they've  had  a  wild  streak  in  'em.  I  feel  it  in 
me.  Sometimes  there  is  a  striped  devil  takes  me  by 
the  hand  and  drags  me  through  a  dance  that  I'm  but 
a  half-hearted  partner  in." 

Miss  Gastonguay  groaned,  but  continued  her  walk 
with  determination.  "What  is  the  precise  relation- 
ship .? " 

"  It  begins  with  your  grandfather,  who,  more's  the 
pity,  ought  to  have  lived  in  Mormon  days  and  been  a 
high-class  elder.  The  priests  would  only  allow  him 
one  wife  and  he  wanted  several.  He  couldn't  get 
banns  for  my  grandmother  and  she  couldn't  get 
banns  for  him,  for  she  also  had  a  partner.  Anyhow, 
they  had  a  kind  of  liking  for  each  other,  and  my 
mother  ought  to  have  had  the  same  outspoken  rela- 
tion to  your  grandfather  that  you  have,  but  she 
hadn't,  and  it's  just  as  well." 


ill 


332 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


« 


Man,  you  confuse  me  with  your  relationships. 
Your  mother  was  the  illegitimate  daughter  of  my 
grandfather  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Does  any  one  else  know  of  this } " 

"No,  ma'am,  no  one.  My  mother  told  me  on 
her  death-bed.  I  needn't  say  the  secret  was  kept 
from  my  grandfather  and  father.  The  women 
seemed  to  take  a  sort  of  devilish  pride  in  even  a 
left-handed  connection  with  such  a  distinguished 
family." 

"  Have  you  no  pride  in  it } " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  —  lots  in  this  way.  I'm  getting  on 
in  years,  and  being  lonely  I  kind  of  hanker  after 
extending  my  trailers  to  other  families,  just  like 
some  old  weed  that's  soon  going  to  be  rooted  up." 

"You  shall  not  regret  telling  mG,"  she  said, 
brokenly,  "though  it  is  one  more  load  for  me  to 
carry.     Man,  I  am  very  unhappy." 

"  I  know  it,"  he  said,  under  his  breath. 

She  took  a  swift  resolution.  There  was  some- 
thing in  this  man,  —  she  did  not  know  what  it  was,  — 
possibly  it  was  the  tie  of  blood,  possibly  because  in 
him  she  felt  the  French  life  and  vivacity,  and  tenacity 
of  purpose  under  seeming  frivolity  that  was  so  strongly 
akin  to  her  family,  and  so  unlike  the  cold,  frigid  reso- 
lution of  Justin,  the  descendant  of  the  Puritans.  At 
any  rate,  she  liked  him,  liked  him  tar  better  than  the 


THE  PICNIC. 


S3S 


more  polished  Justin,  and  without  resolving  to  en- 
trust her  secret  to  him,  she  yet  start  ed  to  play  the 
dangerous  game  of  recalling  her  lost  brother  to  his 
memory. 

"  It  is  your  cousin's,"  she  said,  suddenly,  holding 
up  the  ring.  "  It  belonged  to  my  unhappy  brother 
Louis.     Do  you  remember  him  ?  " 

"  Am  I  likely  to  forget  my  relations  ? "  he  said, 
keenly.  "  There  is  not  a  man  Jack  nor  a  woman 
Jill  of  all  the  Gastonguays  that  I've  not  watched. 
Yes,  I  call  up  your  brother  Louis,  the  gamiest  of  the 
lot.  He  used  to  stone  me,  because  his  friends  said  I 
favoured  him.  Once  I  fetched  him  a  sly  snowball 
behind  the  ear,  but  I  didn't  put  a  stone  in  it  because 
he  was  of  my  blood  —  Hold  on  a  minute,  for  mercy 
sakes,  ma'am.     Hold  on  —  hold  on  !  " 

Miss  Gastonguay  drew  back.  Was  there  a  snake 
in  her  path  that  this  excitable  man  behaved  so 
strangely }  They  were  close  to  one  of  the  rustic 
seats  placed  at  intervals  along  the  walks  of  the 
wood,  and  on  one  of  the  seats  he  suddenly  sank, 
guarding  his  eyes  with  one  bandaged  hand  and 
stretching  out  the  other  as  if  to  keep  her  away. 
•  "  Oh,  crimini  fish  skins !  "  he  ejaculated.  "  I  see 
it  now.  What  a  fool  I  have  been  1  That  little  chir- 
rup of  a  girl  harping  on  my  look  of  her  father  — 
old  Sylvester's  visits  to  the  prison  —  I  see  it  now, 
I  see  it  now.    I  thank  you,  ma'am,"  and,  springing 


334 


DEFICIENT  SAWTS. 


II 


III 


li 


up,  he  seized  Miss  Gastonguay's  hand  and  shook  it 
warmly. 

"  Get  out  with  you ! "  she  said.  "  Do  you  want  to 
call  attention  to  us } "  and  yet  she  was  not  annoyed, 
but  rather  gratified,  and  watched  with  pleasure  the 
rapidity  with  which  his  mind  ran  back  along  the 
thread  of  recollection  she  had  given  him. 

"Louis  running  away  —  Louis  missing  —  Louis 
said  to  be  dead,  not  dead  but  living,  and  cutting  up 
as  usual.  Under  Sylvester's  wide-spread  wing  — 
Justin's  darling  —  justin'c>  father-in-law.  All  very 
natural.  Thaiu:  you,  ma'am,  thank  you.  I'm  glad 
Derrice  dropped  that  watch.  Tell  me  some  more,  — 
tell  me  some  more." 

She  sat  down  beside  him  on  the  bench,  and  re- 
lieved her  overburdened  heart  by  talking  freely. 
They  seemed  an  incongruous  couple,  the  grizzled 
lady  in  her  broadcloth  suit  and  the  sailor  in  his  blue 
serge,  yet  their  relationship  drew  them  together. 
In  former  days  she  would  have  repudiated  it  with 
scorn  ;  now  her  enlarged  and  wandering  sympathies 
went  out  to  this  man  with  cousinly  interest. 

She  talked  freely  to  him  of  her  fears  with  regard 
to  her  brother,  of  her  failing  health,  if  means  might 
be  taken  to  protect  Chelda  and  Derrice  from  the 
knowledge  of  their  connection  with  the  criminal, 
until  at  last,  warned  of  the  flight  of  time  by  the  sun 
dipping   lower   behind   the  pines,  she   rose.     "We 


THE  PICNIC. 


335 


must  go,"  she  said,  regretfully,  "but  remember,  I 
want  to  see  more  of  you.  I  have  not  much  longer 
to  live.  The  doctors  say  I  am  mistaken,  but  I  don't 
believe  them.  I  know  what  this  thumping,  flutter- 
ing heart  means.  Come  often  to  French  Cross  while 
I  am  here,  —  you  and  your  wife,  of  course." 


1 1 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 


H.    ROBINSON    AND    HIS    REVELATION. 


II 


Chelda,  meanwhile,  was  having  her  interview 
with  H.  Robinson. 

Captain  White  had  not  told  her  that  the  Bangor 
and  Rossignol  train  was  two  hours  late.  She  had 
only  found  that  out  by  telephoning  to  the  station. 

She  was  considerably  annoyed  by  it.  She  was 
also  annoyed  by  the  detective's  presumption  in  com- 
ing to  see  her,  and  when  he  did  arrive  she  confronted 
him  v/ith  a  cool  and  haughty  stare. 

Yet  she  was  slightly  curious  with  regard  to  him. 
The  whole  criminal  world  was  unknown  to  her,  but 
it  possessed  a  strange  fascination  for  her,  and  this 
small  experience  had  convinced  her  that  she  would 
have  made  an  excellent  detective  herself,  one  better 
qualified  by  nature  than  this  puffy,  red-faced  individ- 
ual, gasping  for  breath  in  the  cool  library. 

He  was  by  no  means  her  ideal  of  a  detective. 
She  had  imagined  that  he  would  be  tall  and  lean,  a 
serpentine  kind  of  a  man,  capable  of  twisting  himself 
into  innumerable  Protean  shapes,  whereas  he  was 
short  and  stout,  and  of  a  fiery  redness  of  complexion. 

336 


lllil! 


H,  ROBINSON  AND  HIS  REVELATION.       337 


Igor 
had 

was 
vom- 
ited 

bim. 
but 
this 
ould 
itter 
ivid- 

:ive. 
n,  a 
iself 
was 
ion. 


How  could  he  ever  disguise  those  cheeks  of  alann- 
ing  hue,  those  sausages  of  arms  and  posts  of  legs  ? 
She  did  not  like  him.  It  irritated  her  to  have  him 
sit  gazing  at  her  with  his  moist,  gooseberry-coloured 
eyes,  while  he  mopped  his  perspiring  face  with  a 
new  handkerchief  stiff  with  the  creases  in  which  it 
had  come  out  of  some  second-rate  Boston  store. 

She  was  in  haste  to  get  him  away  from  the  house. 
Her  aunt  might  return  unexpectedly,  and  her  rest- 
less curiosity  would  be  sure  to  result  in  disagreeable 
discoveries,  therefore  she  opened  the  conversation  by 
saying,  "If  we  are  interrupted  and  you  are  ques- 
tioned, I  wish  you  would  let  it  be  supposed  that  you 
are  some  one  in  search  of  employment." 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  with  an  unctuous  laugh,  and 
twisting  his  head  all  around  his  shoulders  in  order 
to  reach  the  regions  of  neck  behind.  "  I  ought  to 
apologise  for  being  here,  but  I  had  something  to 
communicate, — something  I  wouldn't  trust  to  no 

letter." 

The  reserved  young  la  y  vouchsafed  him  no  reply ; 
and,  restoring  his  handkerchief  to  its  proper  place, 
he  took  up  the  tone  of  their  correspondence,  and 
went  on,  briskly,  "Yours  of  the  tenth  was  duly 
received." 

« Indeed,"  said  Chelda,  as  calmly  as  if  it  were  a 
matter  of  surprise  that  her  letter  should  not  have 
gone  astray. 


1 1 


;lt!: 


i  ^li!;i': 


338 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  I  filled  your  little  commission  about  the  key,  but 
that  ain't  what  brought  me  here,"  and  he  immedi- 
ately inflated  his  whole  body  in  a  manner  that  beto- 
kened a  high  state  of  gratification. 

"  What  did  bring  you  ? "  inquired  Chelda,  with  an 
impatient  desire  to  bring  him  to  the  point. 

"  Let  me  recapitulate,"  he  replied  ;  and  he  ticked 
off  his  words  with  the  bursting  forefinger  of  one 
hand  against  the  bursting  forefinger  of  the  other. 
"Three  months  ago  you  gave  me  your  clue.  I  fol- 
lowed it  up.  I  tracked  Jones,  alias  Martin,  alias 
Smith,  alias  Lancaster,  from  Persia  Street  to  New 
York,  from  N'vw  York  to  Chicago,  from  Chicago  to 
San  Francisco,  —  lost  him  there,  —  by  a  regular 
jumped-up  miracle  stumbled  on  his  tracks  again  of 
fifteen  years  later,  then  burst  into  a  regular  mine,  a 
regular  mine.  Madam,  I  have  the  honour  to  inform 
you  that  you  have  laid  this  great  American  nation 
under  a  debt  of  gratitude,"  and,  getting  up  with 
difficulty,  he  made  her  what  he  considered  to  be  a 
very  profound  and  gentlemanly  bow. 

It  was  lost  on  Chelda.  She  was  ineffably  dis- 
gusted with  him,  and  took  small  pains  to  hide  her 
disgust. 

H.  Robinson  assumed  an  injured  air.  For  her 
sake  he  was  trying  to  restrain  himself,  for  her  sake 
he  was  courting  dangers  of  suffocation  and  strangu- 
lation from  the  retention  of  his  great  and  sensational 


H.  ROBINSON  AND  HIS  REVELATION. 


339 


discovery,  and  he  was  appreciated  not  in  the  slightest 
degree.     He  would  try  again  to  overawe  her. 

"  You  put  me  on  the  scent  of  a  gambler,"  he  said, 
tragically  ;  "  I  have  run  into  the  biggest  bank-breaker 
in  the  world.  We've  done  what  all  the  police  forces 
in  the  Union  couldn't  do." 

Still  Chelda  was  not  impressed.  She  was  star"  *,•  , 
slightly  startled,  and  increasingly  annoyed.  *'*  /^ha'. 
do  you  mean  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  and  he  whipped  out  some 
papers  and  spread  them  on  his  fat  knees.  "  Look,  — 
*  Rewards  Offered,  — '  Descriptions  Given  '  — '  Cut 
of  Gentleman  George  in  beard  and  whiskers.' " 

"Is  that  his  name?"  she  asked,  and  her  mind 
went  back  to  the  book  of  criminal  records. 

"Yes,  ma'am.  You've  read  of  him,  of  course. 
All  the  world  knows  him,  —  the  civilised  world,  of 
course.  I  don't  see  why  he  didn't  take  to  China.  I 
should  think  some  big  hauls  might  be  made  there," 
and  he  became  thoughtful  until  roused  by  a  peremp- 
tory question  from  Chelda. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  it's  sure  enough.  Your  man  is 
Gentleman  George,  and  when  we  catch  him,  if  you 
Care  anything  for  getting  before  the  public,  you'll 
figure  in  the  daily  press  from  Maine  to  Texas." 

Chelda's  lip  curled.  It  was  not  worth  while  to 
argue.  Not  all  the  tongues  of  men  and  angels 
could  make  this  man  understand  the  inherent  differ- 


340 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


ences  between  her  nature  and  his.  He  would  revel 
in  notoriety,  she  would  loathe  it. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  asked,  deliberately, 
"  that  this  man  I  set  you  in  search  of  is  really  the 
celebrated  criminal  called  Gentleman  George  } " 

"  I  do,  —  I've  said  it,  and  I  say  it  again.  Your 
married  man  with  the  German  wife  that  boarded  in 
Persia  Street,  Boston,  in  a  respectable  boarding- 
house,  is  the  high- roller  Gentleman  George." 

This  man  was  honest,  Chelda  knew  that,  for,  true 
to  her  instinct  to  trust  no  one,  she  had  taken  pains 
to  ascertain  his  character  before  she  entrusted  her 
case  to  him.  H.  Robinson  was  not  a  genius,  but 
a  man  discharged  from  a  regular  police  detective 
force  on  account  of  insubordination  and  inability  to 
work  under  orders.  Singly,  he  did  pretty  good 
service  and  could  be  trusted.  But  for  the  ?atter 
assurance  she  would  never  have  gone  to  him. 

While  she  studied  his  face,  he  composedly  studied 
hers.  He  was  hurt,  but  not  made  angry  by  her  dis- 
dain. H.  Robinson  was  first  of  all  a  man  of  business  ; 
he  did  not  allow  private  likes  and  dislikes  to  stand 
in  the  way  of  professional  advancement. 

"  If  you've  a  mind  to  carry  the  affair  through,"  he 
said,  with  some  sympathy  in  the  depths  of  his  pair 
of  matched  gooseberries,  "  you'll  get  used  to  it.  You 
ought  to  see  some  women  in  court  for  the  first  time, 
and  then  see  'em  for  the  last." 


H.   ROBINSON  AND  HIS ,  REVELATION.        34I 

"You  know  that  I  will  not  carry  it  through,"  she 
said,  with  arrogance. 

He  could  not  conceal  his  satisfaction.  For  a  few 
seconds  \\z  silently  expanded  and  contracted  his 
rounded  chest,  then  he  burst  out  with  a  relieved,  "  I 
expected  you'd  back  out.  It  ain't  an  affair  a  lady 
ought  to  glory  in." 

"  I  began  the  thing  from  curiosity,"  she  went  on. 
"  I  am  going  to  wash  my  hands  of  it  now." 

He  choked  back  his  delight,  and  energetically 
repressed  the  words  of  thankfulness  gurgling  in  his 
throat.  In  imagination  he  saw  himself  hurling  his 
grand  discovery  at  an  aggregation  of  detective  forces, 
and  thereby  triumphing  gloriously  over  his  former 
unappreciative  associates. 

Chelda  was  becoming  increasingly  anxious  to  get 
rid  of  him.  "  I  requested  you  at  the  beginning  to 
keep  our  correspondence  strictly  private,"  she  said, 
hastily.     "  Have  you  done  so  .?  " 

<*  Yes,  ma'am  ;  I'll  take  my  Bible  oath  on  it." 

*'  No  one  has  seen  my  letters  to  you  t " 

"  Not  a  soul,  nor  a  body  either." 

"  You  have  all  the  letters }  " 

*'  Every  one,  —  filed  in  my  safe." 

"  You  could  return  them  to  me  ? " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  could,"  he  replied,  with  a  strong 
emphasis  on  the  could. 

He  had  not  had  much  success  until  this  young  ady 


342 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


had  fallen  into  his  hands.  He  knew  that  she  was 
rich,  and  he  was  prepared  to  make  a  very  good  thing 
of  the  affair. 

"  You  shall  be  paid,"  she  said,  loftily,  "  but  there 
are  certain  things  I  wish  you  to  promise  me." 

In  spite  of  the  shortness  of  time,  she  fell  into  a 
brief  reverie.  Her  active  brain  was  running  over 
the  possibilities  of  the  future.  She  wished  to 
humiliate  Derrice,  to  poison  slightly  for  her  the 
springs  of  happiness,  and  to  survey  from  a  distance 
the  uneasy  struggles  of  this  victim  who  had  so 
deeply  angered  her. 

But  suppose  she  crushed  her.  Suppose  her 
aunt  would  not  leave  Rossignol,  —  would  stop  to 
comfort  her  favourite,  and  investigate  the  cause  of 
the  disgrace  overwhelming  her.  Vexatious  circum- 
stances might  arise ;  something  unforeseen  might 
happen  to  implicate  her  in  the  matter.  Her  first 
duty  was  to  herself.  She  would  at  this  moment 
give  up  her  vengeance,  dear  as  it  was  to  her,  if  it 
stood  in  the  way  of  her  personal  advancement.  She 
had  better  do  so.  The  detective  had  taken  a  most 
unwise  step  in  coming  to  see  her.  She  must  shake 
him  off  at  once  and  for  ever. 

'•I  will  be  frank  with  you,"  she  said,  hurriedly. 
"  I  had  reason  to  suppose  it  would  be  a  good  thing 
to  have  this  man  exposed,  but  he  has  a  relative,  — 
a   young  woman  who  is  sensitive.     The   shock   of 


H.  ROBINSON  AND  HIS  REVELATION. 


343 


hearing  what  you  have  told  me  might  be  disastrous 
for  her.  I  did  not  dream  that  he  would  prove  to  be 
so  renowned  a  criminal." 

"  It's  a  life  sentence,  ma'am,  if  we  catch  him." 

"We  must  not  catch  him,"  she  said,  haughtily. 
"  I  wish  you  to  let  the  pursuit  drop  at  once."  / 

"  You  do,"  he  said,  in  a  thick  voice. 

"  Yes,  —  I  will  make  it  up  to  you." 

«  How,  might  I  ask  } " 

"  I  will  pay  your  bill  twice  over." 

He  chuckled  huskily.  "  You  might  fill  this  house 
with  bank-bills.  You  might  cover  old  Katahdin 
with  gold  plate,  —  you  couldn't  move  me  any  more 
than  you'd  move  that  same  old  mountain.  I'm  a 
Maine  man,  and  when  a  Maine  man  makes  up  his 
mind  you  know  the  old  saying  about  might  that  goes 
with  it.  H.  Robinson  don't  go  back  of  his  word, 
and  he's  sworn  to  hunt  this  man  down." 

There  was  a  detestable  sickening  crease  in  his  fat 
lips,  and  Chclda  turned  her  head  away  for  an  instant. 

"  It  ain't  your  picnic  now,  you  see,"  he  went  on, 
persuasively.  "  I've  done  your  job.  You  pay  me 
and  I'm  done  with  you.  I'll  follow  this  up  on  my 
own  hook,  and  you  needn't  be  one  mite  afraid  of 
getting  dragged  in." 

If  a  look  could  have  killed  him,  he  and  his  secret 
would  at  once  have  sunk  through  the  floor  and 
nevermore  been  heard  of.     The  look,  however,  did 


344 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


not  kill,  and  in  obstinate  pride  and  with  repressed 
self-satisfaction  he  presented  a  folded  bill. 

Chelda  looked  over  it.  "  I  cannot  pay  you  now," 
she  said,  cuttingly. 

"No  odds,  —  I  don't  expect  it.  It  was  in  the 
agreement  that  I'd  wait,  but  you  spoke  of  part  pay- 
ment.    My  travelling  expenses  ain't  no  flea-bite." 

Chelda  slowly  drew  her  purse  from  her  pocket. 
"  Where  is  this  man  now  ?  " 

"We've  located  him  in  New  York." 

"  We } " 

"  I,  —  we  is  professional.  You're  inclined  to  mis- 
trust me,  but  I  swear  I'm  alone.  I'll  have  no  med- 
dling with  this  job  till  I'm  ready  to  spring  it.  I'm 
planning  to  trace  his  exact  hang-out  through  this 
relative  you  speak  of." 

"  You  know  who  she  is .?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  though  you  didn't  take  the  pains  to 
tell  me,  no  offence  either.  You're  not  bound  to  tell 
all  you  know.  I  found  out  all  about  her.  She's 
the  apple  of  Gentleman  George's  eye.  Of  course  he 
.vrites  to  her.  We'll  strike  at  him  through  her. 
I've  a  little  scheme  for  scrutinising  her  husband's 
mail,  but  — "  and  H.  Robinson  suddenly  folded  his 
lips.  This  young  lady  was  now  out  of  the  combine, 
and  he  did  not  like  too  well  the  expression  in  the 
depths  of  her  inscrutable  eyes. 

After  several  efforts  he  succeeded  in  rising  from 


H.  ROBINSON  AND  HIS  REVELATION. 


345 


his  chair,  bobbed  his  head  thankfully  as  she  placed 
some  bank-bills  in  his  hand,  then  sank  back  again  to 
write  a  receipt. 

"Here's  your  key,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "I  most 
forgot." 

Chelda  took  the  small,  oddly-shaped  piece  of  metal 
from  him.  Ever  since  childhood  she  had  known 
that  her  aunt  kept  her  dearest  possessions  in  the 
little  table  at  the  head  of  her  bed.  In  the  lower 
drawers  were  her  family  jewels.  In  the  upper 
one  were  treasures  beyond  the  treasures  of  gold  or 
precious  stones. 

The  contents  of  this  upper  drawer  had  never  been 
shown  to  Chelda,  and  she  had  never  had  any  curi- 
osity to  examine  them,  for  she  knew  pretty  well 
that  they  were  heart  souvenirs,  —  old  profile  pictures, 
daguerreotypes,  and  badly  painted  miniatures,  locks 
of  hair,  scraps  of  satin  and  velvet  from  wedding 
gowns,  faded  letters,  and  withered  flowers,  taken 
from  the  hands  of  the  dead. 

But  lately  there  had  been  some  additions  made  to 
this  store  of  treasures,  —  something  that  drew  her 
.aunt  to  frequent  contemplation  and  meditation  behind 
closed  doors.  There  had  also  been  a  new  lock  put 
on  the  drawers,  and  Chelda  had  become  possessed 
of  a  teasing  curiosity  to  know  what  this  concealed 
mystery  foreboded.  She  was  continually  in  fear  of 
a  new  heir.     Her  aunt  had  always  treated  her  as  her 


346 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


adopted  daughter,  yet  she  had  never  bound  herself 
by  a  sure  and  certain  promise  to  leave  all  that  she 
possessed  to  her  favourite  niece.  And  now — would 
the  key  fit  ?  It  was  exceedingly  peculiar  in  shape, 
and  if  there  were  any  flaw  in  it  the  detective  must 
take  it  back  to  Boston  to  have  another  made. 

She  hastily  drew  out  her  watch.  The  picnickers 
would  probably  not  be  returning  for  some  time  yet. 
"  Will  you  wait  for  one  minute  while  I  try  this  t " 
she  asked  of  H.  Robinson. 

"Cert'nly,"  he  responded,  and,  folding  his  fat 
hands  behind  him,  he  strolled  to  the  window  and 
gazed  out  at  the  blue  sky  and  the  bluer  river. 

Chelda  assured  herself  by  a  glance  from  the  back 
of  the  house  that  there  was  no  one  approaching  from 
the  direction  of  the  wood,  and  then  going  swiftly  to 
her  aunt's  room,  she  knelt  before  the  table  and  fitted 
the  key  to  the  lock  in  the  upper  drawer. 

It  worked  smoothly,  —  she  had  a  week  previous 
taken  a  successful  impression,  —  then,  unable  to 
withstand  the  temptation  of  casting  one  glance  in 
the  sliding  receptacle  open  at  last  before  her,  she 
delicately  insinuated  her  fingers  among  its  miscel- 
laneous articles,  in  search  of  some  object  of  enlighten- 
ment. 

The  velvet  shoe  first  caught  her  attention.  "  Little 
Jane's  shoe,  —  carried  over  half  the  world  by  her 
unworthy  Louis." 


H.  ROBINSON  AND  HIS  REVELATION.        347 

Jane  was  her  aunt.  Louis,  Louis,  —  who  was 
he? 

Ah,  her  scapegrace  uncle,  dead  long  since.  He 
had  run  away  from  the  parental  roof,  and  had  subse- 
quently been  much  of  a  traveller. 

Here  was  a  letter,  a  half-open  letter,  the  paper 
yellow,  the  ink  pale,  in  which  the  closing  words 
related  to  this  same  uncle.  "  If  Louis  should  come 
home.** 

She  wondered  how  long  Louis  had  lived  after 
leaving  home.  He  had  apparently  survived  his 
father's  death,  and  she  carefully  restored  the  letter 
to  the  exact  spot  from  which  she  had  taken  it. 

"  Gentleman  George  and  His  Gigantic  Games,**  — 
this  was  a  newspaper  extract.  Her  aunt  knew,  then, 
that  Derrice's  father  was  a  criminal.  How  had  she 
found  out }  Did  Justin  Mercer  know .?  Surely  not ; 
he  would  never  have  married  the  daughter  of  a  man 
who  had  violated  the  law  of  his  country. 

Her  surprised  mind  ran  off  in  this  new  field  of 
conjecture,  until,  suddenly  remembering  the  necessity 
for  haste,  she  laid  the  extract  back  beside  the  shoe, 
and  was  about  closing  the  drawer  when  one  of  the 
flippant  head-lines  arrested  her  hand. 

"The  Bank  Burglar  a  Fetich  Worshipper.  Un- 
dertakes No  Job  without  His  Charm  of  the  Velvet 
Shoe.'* 

She  caught  the  paper  up  again,  and  breathlessly 


348 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


read  through  the  article,  in  which  was  jauntily  out- 
lined the  phenomenal  career  of  a  man  who  had  suc- 
cessfully carried  through  some  of  the  greatest  bank 
robberies  the  world  had  ever  known. 

The  reading  finished,  she  sank  back  on  the  floor 
and  stared  in  blank  horror  before  her. 

Gentleman  George  was  Louis  Gastonguay.  The 
errant  son  had  never  died.  Derrice  Mercer  was  her 
cousin.  Fool !  Fool  that  she  had  been !  and  she 
clasped  wildly  her  beating  breast. 

A  hundred  confirmatory  occurrences  flashed  into 
her  mind.  A  long  chain  of  evidence  linked  itself 
before  her  eyt.  She  had  thought  herself  so  clever, 
—  how  unutterably  stupid  had  been  her  proceedings  ! 
She  had  set  a  ball  rolling  that  would  crash  in  pieces 
this  ancient  house.  She  saw  herself  discovered  and 
dishonoured,  her  aunt's  gray  hairs  brought  down  in 
sorrow  to  the  grave.  She  herself  had  pointed  out 
the  game  to  the  hunter  below.  Nothing  would  stop 
him.  Nothing  could  restore  her  to  her  lost  estate  of 
guiltlessness. 

This  was  revenge,  —  revenge  indeed,  —  a  blow  that 
would  strike  her  as  well  as  her  victim.  She  would 
lose  French  Cross.  Her  aunt  would  cast  her  off ; 
she  would  be  a  beggar.  The  thought  was  madden- 
ing, stunning.  She  had  never  had  any  sorrow  like 
this.  Bernal  Huntington's  loss  had  occasioned  her 
sullen  grief,  —  and  even  in  the  midst  of  her  terror 


H.  ROBINSON  AND  HIS  REVELATION.        349 


a  passionate  remembrance  of  him  swept  into  her 
mind,  —  but  that  was  grief  of  the  mind  only.  She 
had  suffered  then,  but  not  like  this,  not  like  this. 

Her  whole  body  was  now  in  agony,  —  the  delicate 
pampered  body  that  might  soon  be  snatched  from 
the  luxuries  so  necessary  to  it.  It  would  have  to 
suffer  privations  that  would  be  strange  and  fatal. 

A  deathly  sickness  overpowered  her,  and  she 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  Relentless  figures 
flitted  before  her,  —  Miss  Gastonguay  grim  and  in- 
exorable, Derrice  agitated  and  weeping,  Justin  with 
a  face  turned  sternly  from  her. 

Her  mind  gave  way  under  the  strain  imposed  on 
it,  and  her  shrinking  body  grew  weak.  The  pale 
faces  grew  black,  faded  into  mist,  and  she  fell  head- 
long on  the  floor. 


rj 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


CAPTAIN   WHITE  S    BALL    PLAY. 


Prosperity  and  Tribulation  had  set  out  a  prettily 
equipped  table  on  the  patch  of  green  grass  beside  the 
tranquil  river. 

Capacious  baskets  stood  beside  them,  and  their 
slow  moving  figures  showed  slim  and  black  against  a 
dull  green  background  of  firs. 

Miss  Gastonguay  would  not  allow  these  servants 
to  wear  livery.  Her  coachman  was  obliged  to  do  so. 
He  had  always  been  an  underling,  but  tyrannical 
as  she  often  showed  herself  with  these  two  favourites, 
she  never  allowed  them  to  forget  that  she  remembered 
a  time  when  they  had  been  in  a  position  of  inde- 
pendence. 

Therefore  their  lives  were  happy.  They  followed 
the  whims  of  their  mistress  with  childish  enjoyment, 
and  just  now  they  were  as  frolicsome  as  two  school- 
boys over  this  departure  from  the  usual  order  of  the 
day. 

The  cold  dishes  were  all  arranged  carefully  on  the 
table.      Flaming  cardinal  flowers  and  spikes  of  blue 

350 


CAPTAIN  WHITE'S  BALL  PLAY. 


351 


pickerel  weed  lay  loosely  about  the  white  cloth ;  the 
hot  dishes  watched  by  the  cook  O'Toole  were  grow- 
ing hotter  by  a  leaping  fire,  yet  Miss  Gastonguay 
would  not  give  the  signal  to  serve  the  meal. 

"  Hush,"  she  said,  at  last,  •'  Mrs.  Mercer  is  going 
to  recite  to  us." 

Prosperity  and  Tribulation  demurely  seated  them- 
selves and  listened  to  the  young  lady  as  she  drew 
herself  up  erect  on  her  heap  of  cushions,  and,  with 
eyes  wandering  across  the  river,  declaimed  in  a  girl- 
ish way  Whittier's  exquisite  lines  on  the  fabled  city 
of  the  early  Maine  Voyagers. 

Captain  White  could  not  listen.  He  tried  to  fol- 
low the  fortunes  of  the  Christian  knight,  "  who,  with 
his  henchman  bold,  sought  through  the  dim  wood  the 
domes  and  spires  of  Norumbega's  town,"  but  the 
effort  was  a  failure. 

Just  as  Derrice  was  plaintively  revealing  the  heart- 
sickness  of  the  disappointed  knight,  Captain  White 
wriggled  toward  his  wife.  "  Hippy,"  he  whispered 
in  her  ear,  "that  supper  looks  good,  but  you  will 
excuse  me  from  it.    I  must  have  a  look  at  H.  Robin- 


son. 

.  She  nodded,  and  followed  him  with  her  eyes  as  he 
stole  out  of  sight. 

On  occasions  like  the  present,  when  the  three 
house  servants  were  withdrawn,  the  woman  from  the 
cottages  took  charge  of  affairs  at   French   Cross. 


352 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


This  woman  Captain  White  found  in  the  kitchen, 
gazing  at  a  row  of  tin  covers  on  the  wall  as  fixedly 
as  if  she  were  mesmerised  by  them. 

When  he  saluted  her  with  a  sudden  "  Good  after- 
noon," she  turned  slowly. 

"You  might  'a'  startled  me.     It's  mortal  quiet." 

"  No  one  round  .? "  inquired  Captain  White,  in  his 
easy  manner. 

"  Nobody  but  a  man." 

"  Been  here  long  } " 

"  Nigh  on  fifteen  minutes." 

"  A  stranger .? " 

"  Yes,  powerful  fleshy,  —  more  fleshy  than  I  be," 
and  she  again  fell  into  a  reverie. 

"  Can  you  give  me  some  warm  water  ? "  he  asked, 
pulling  the  bandage  off  one  of  his  scratched  hands. 

"  You've  been  a-ripping  of  yourself,"  she  said,  with 
stupid  interest. 

Yes  ;  why  don't  you  ask  how  it  happened  ?  " 
What  odds,  so  long  as  you've  did  it !  " 

"  You  ain't  curious,"  he  remarked,  as  he  splashed 
his  hands  in  the  water  she  presented  to  him. 

"  I  ain't  no  call  to  be.  Things  get  did.  What 
matters  how  ? " 

He  silently  washed  and  dried  his  hands,  and  by 
dint  of  long  staring  at  them  she  evolved  a  proposi- 
tion. "  I'll  go  get  some  of  that  sticky  stuff  I  see  in 
Mias  Gastonguay's  room." 


(< 


(( 


CAPTAIN  WHITE'S  BALL  PLAY. 


353 


in 


Captain  White  walked  to  one  of  the  windows  from 
which  he  could  command  a  portion  of  the  avenue. 
No  one  left  the  house,  no  one  approached  it,  and 
after  what  seemed  to  him  to  be  an  interminably  long 
time  Mrs.  Stryper  came  waddling  back. 

"I  ain't  got  your  plaster,"  she  said,  deliberately, 
"  'cause  Miss  Chelda's  swounded,  and  I  can't  bring 
her  to." 

"  Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  In  her  aunt's  room." 

"  Where's  the  stranger  }  " 

"  I  s'pose  he's  in  the  Hbrary.'* 

"  Can  I  do  anything }  " 

"  Be  you  good  at  swounds  ? " 

"  First-class." 

"  Come  on,  then,"  arid  she  began  a  return  trip  at 
a  snail's  pace. 

Captain  White  wound  an  intricate  pattern  of  foot- 
steps all  around  her  as  they  wont  up-stairs.  He  had 
never  before  been  in  the  upper  part  of  this  house, 
and  he  gave  himself  up  to  admiration  until  he 
reached  the  long  white  bedroom.  There  he  was 
shocked.  Chelda  looked  badly,  and  he  knelt  hastily 
beside  her,  and  laid  his  hand  on  her  heart. 

"  Get  me  some  of  those  bottles,  can't  you  ? "  he 
said,  pointing  to  a  table,  — "  something  strong. 
Never  mind  —  I'll  do  it  myself." 

Some  smelling-salts,  that  made  him  throw  his  head 


I 


I 


354 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


back  with  a  jerk,  had  something  of  the  same  enliv- 
ening effect  upon  Chelda.  She  gasped,  made  a 
painful  movement  of  her  forehead,  and  began  to  lose 
the  sickly  pallor  overspreading  her  olive  complexion. 

Captain  White's  fears  on  her  account  '"ere  at  once 
put  to  rest,  and  he  resumed  his  scrutiny  ci  his  sur- 
roundings. This  was  Miss  Gastonguay's  room. 
That  was  her  bed.  Close  beside  it  was  the  table 
rgainfst  which  the  burglar's  efforts  had  been  directed. 
If  then  its  contents  were  valuable,  why  was  the 
upper  drawer  open,  the  key  fallirg  from  it } 

He  took  the  liberty  of  gently  detaching  the  newi- 
paper  cutting  from  ChHda's  clasped  fingers. 

"  Gentleman  George  "  —  Oh,  h<,'re  was  the  solu- 
tion of  the  mystery.  Chelda  had  been  electrified.  She 
had  to-day,  strniige  to  say,  made  the  same  discovery 
that  he  had,  but  she  h:"l  rnnde  hefs  by  dishonest 
means.  She  had  Li^ci  aAmiWHp  t4  her  aunt's 
absence  to  rummage  the  hUUti^pUt^f^  in  which,  with 
a  woman's  tenderness,  were  kept  some  remembrances 
of  the  disgraced  hrniUer. 

tJiifortunate  au/it  t  Unfortunate  girl !  She  was 
recoveririg.  He  would  be  able  to  question  her;  but 
first  he  must  get  rid  o|  this  lout  of  a  woman,  and, 
turning  abruptly,  he  said,  "  Have  you  got  any  pickled 
quinces  in  the  house  ? " 

*'  I  dunno,"  she  said,  stolidly. 

«*  Go  and  see      It's  the  best  thing  lor  faint  spells. 


CAPTAIN  WHITE'S  BALL  PLAY. 


355 


There  is  a  peculiar  juice  in  the  quince  that  puts 
life  into  the  patient." 

Mrs.  Stryper,  without  the  slightest  sign  of  doubt, 
went  obediently  to  search  in  closets  and  storeroom 
for  something  that  could  not  be  found. 

"  Well,"  said  Captain  White,  when  Chelda  at  last 
sat  up  on  the  floor,  and  put  her  hand  to  her  head, 
"  has  the  world  straightened  itself  out  again .? " 

Without  replying  to  him  her  gaze  went  to  the 
open  drawer. 

"We'd  better  shut  that  thing's  mouth,"  and, 
springing  up,  he  restored  the  piece  of  newspaper  to 
its  place,  locked  the  drawer,  and  put  the  key  in  her 
hand. 

Chelda  took  it,  feebly  tried  to  reach  a  chair,  and 
falling  over  in  the  attempt,  was  assisted  by  Captain 
White. 

"You're  as  weak  as  a  kitten,"  he  observed. 
"  You've  had  a  great  knock-over.' 

All  confusion  was  rapidly  clearing  from  Chelda's 
mind.  She  tried  to  wither  him  by  a  glance,  but  she 
had  not  yet  got  her  bodily  faculties  under  control, 
and  the  effort  ended  in  a  weak  facial  contortion. 

"  You're  in  trouble,"  he  said  ;  "  is  there  anything 
I  can  do  for  you } " 

Chelda  found  her  voice.  The  exigencies  of  the 
case  demanded  nerve  and  coolness.  "  I  am  not  in 
trouble,"  she  said. 


I  it 


I 


i. 


TfT 


356 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


*'  You  are,"  he  replied,  bluntly,  "  and  I  know  what 
it  is.  I  expect  you  feel  pretty  well  ashamed  of 
yourself,  but  it's  never  too  late  to  turn.  Give  up  this 
sort  of  business,"  and  he  scornfully  pointed  his 
thumb  over  his  shoulder. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"Picking  and  feeling  round  other  people's  prop- 
erty." 

"  Do  you  dare  to  insinuate  that  I  have  been  doing 
so  >  '* 

"  It  looks  mighty  like  it,"  he  said,  slightly  uplift- 
ing his  shoulders. 

"  If  my  aunt  chooses  to  go  out  and  leave  an  un- 
locked drawer,  you  have  no  right  to  assail  me  with 
base  suspicions." 

"Did  your  aunt  go  and  leave  an  unlocked 
drawer .? " 

«*Ask  her." 

"  You're  clever,"  he  said,  admiringly ;  "  you  can 
figure  to  a  dot  what  folks  will  do.  You  know  I 
wouldn't  ask  a  fishy  question  like  that.  You  know 
you're  lying  at  the  present  moment.  You  know  out 
of  jealousy  you  set  H.  Robinson  on  the  track  of 
your  cousin  Derrice.  Yua  know  you're  most  aead 
to  think  of  the  shame  you  were  about  to  bring  on 
this  house.  'Pon  my  word,  I  wouldn't  change  places 
with  you  lor  nU  the  gold  in  the  State.  Ge  to  bed, 
you  wretched  git),  and  think  c  'f-  vonr  sir        When 


CAPTAIN  WHITE'S  BALL   PLAY. 


357 


you  get  out  of  this  white  heat  of  fright,  tell  me  any- 
thing I  can  do  for  you  and  I'll  do  it.  First,  though, 
have  you  broken  oF  with  H.  Robinson  ? " 

"Yes,  I  have.  Tell  him  to  go  and  —  "  she  said, 
making  an  imperious  effort  to  subdue  the  sudden 
shaking  of  her  figure,  "  Ihave  nothing  to  say  to  you. 
I  do  not  wish  to  see  you  again." 

"Unhappy  girl,"  he  said,  mournfully,  "you  don't 
understand  my  interest.  I  shall  not  explain  it,  but 
you  have  given  me  a  blow  to-day.  Sometime  you 
may  find  out  why  I  surprise  you  by  ferreting  out 
your  plans.  In  the  meantimCj  good-bye  ;  rest  if 
you  can,"  and  without  a  trace  of  his  usual  vivacity 
he  left  her. 

The  sight  of  the  stranger's  hat  lying  on  one  of 
the  massive  tables  of  the  entrance-hall  at  once 
changed  the  current  of  his  thoughts  from  dull  mel- 
ancholy to  active  hostility,  —  and  there  was  H. 
Robinson  himself  peeping  from  the  library. 

The  detective  was  hot  and  tired  and  inwardly 
displease-  vith  this  house,  in  which  he  had  been 
offered  nothing  to  quench  his  thirst,  —  not  even  a 
drop  of  water.  He  was  afraid  also  of  losing  his  train. 
It  was  an  extremely  strange  thing  that  the  stuck-up 
young  lady  should  keep  him  waiting  such  a  length 
of  time,  and  he  was  just  making  up  his  mind  to 
leave,  when,  to  add  to  his  troubles,  this  stranger  came 
spying  about  him. 


V 


If 


358 


hSFICIENl     I A I  NTS, 


He  did  not  like  the  twinkle  in  Captain  White's 
eye,  yet  he  felt  constrained  to  answer  him  when  he 
leaned  politely  over  the  carved  railing  of  the  stair- 
case, and  said  in  an  interrogative  tone  of  voice,  "  H. 
Robinson  ? " 

"  That's  my  name." 

"  Occupation  ?  "  inquired  Captain  WhJte. 

"  Haven't  got  any." 

"  Glad  to  get  something } " 

"  Wouldn't  mind  a  soft  snap." 

"  Fishing,  f  »r  example  ? " 

"  Fishing  what  ? " 

"  Herring,  —  know  anything  about  them  ?  " 

"  Not  much." 

"  Know  anything  about  blacksmithing  } " 

«  No." 

"  Can't  make  keys,  —  false  keys,  nasty,  low,  pick- 
ing keys  .-* " 

"No,  I  can't,"  said  H.  Robinson,  sulkily,  and 
advancing  to  the  table  he  seized  his  hat,  and  began 
a  retreat  toward  the  open  hall  door,  through  which  a 
southern  breeze  was  peacefully  stealing. 

Captain  White  followed  close  behind  him.  "  Ever 
coining  here  a^fain  ? " 

"I'll  come  If  I  like,"  nnld  H  Robinson,  over  his 
expansive  shoulder,  and  with  the  same  manner  in 
which  he  might  have  thrown  a  bune  to  an  impudent 
dog. 


CAPTAIN  WHITE'S  BALL  PLAY, 


359 


Standing  with  his  foot  on  the  floor  of  the  French 
Cross  hall,  Captain  White  easily  imagined  himself  a 
champion  for  the  ladies  of  the  house.  It  was  his 
duty  to  frighten  away  this  intruder  who  had  been 
leading  the  younger  and  more  foolish  of  the  ladies 
into  by  and  forbidden  paths  of  unlawful  curiosity. 

"  Better  give  up  this  little  affair,"  he  said,  per- 
suasively. 

The  detective  easily  lost  his  temper.  However, 
he  controlled  himself,  and  set  his  foot  on  the  door- 
sill. 

Captain  White  gave  him  a  playful  tap  on  the 
shoulder.  "  Don't  come  again.  As  a  friend  I  advise 
you." 

The  detective  stopped.  Short  as  was  his  time, 
and  prejudicial  as  it  might  be  to  his  interests,  he 
would  love  to  punish  this  little  whipper-snapper 
of  a  man. 

"Get  out,"  he  said,  unexpectedly  thrusting  forth 
an  elbow  in  close  proximity  to  Captain  White. 

"  Oh  !  "  responded  the  latter,  and  one  of  his  elbows 
flew  out  with  such  directness  of  aim  that  it  sought 
the  detective's  hidden  ribs  with  the  precision  of  a 
dagger. 

H.  Robinson  choked  and  sputtered  with  rage,  yet 
in  the  midst  of  it  remembered  that  it  would  be  mad- 
ness for  him  to  indulge  in  an  altercation,  and  clutch- 
ing his  fat  hands  he  sidled  down  the  steps  his  good 


rr' 


360 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


genius  telling  him  not  to  present  the  broad  target  of 
his  back  to  the  teasing  companion  crowding  against 
him. 

"That  was  a  low  thing  for  me  to  do,"  said  Captain 
White,  tauntingly. 

"You  bet  it  was,"  returned  H.  Robinson,  with 
feeling.     "I'll  do  as  much  for  you  some  day." 

"  Ever  hear  of  the  Pope's  mule  "i  "  asked  Captain 
White,  softly. 

The  detective  muttered  something  under  his  breath, 
and  continued  edging  toward  the  poplars  of  the 
avenue. 

"The  Pope's  mule,"  went  on  Captain  White, 
pushing  along  beside  him,  "  was  a  peculiar  inule. 
He  got  mad  with  a  man  once,  but  he  couldn't  get 
a  kick  at  him  for  seven  years.  Then  the  kick  was 
a  revelation,  —  to  the  man  of  course.  Afterward  he 
understood  mules  better.  I  blame  that  mule.  He 
was  too  patient.  He  might  have  kicked  some  of  the 
man's  connections,  or  his  partner  in  business.  That 
would  have  scared  the  man  green,  and  kept  him 
from  nagging  mules.  You  can  always  manage  men 
if  you  take  *em  in  time,  and  are  any  kind  of  a  decent 
mule  yourself  —  Hurry  up  !  what  are  you  crabbing 
it  so  slow  for } "  and  he  slightly  assisted  the  detective 
with  his  shoulder. 

H.  Robinson  hastened  his  steps.  He  felt  strangely 
calm  ;  he  was  forgiving  this  man. 


CAPTAIN  WHITE'S  BALL  PLAY. 


361 


<i 


We  might  be  brothers  or  twin  dogs  in  this  lock- 
step,"  said  Captain  White,  aifably. 

This  remark  was  comparatively  unoffensive,  yet  it 
caused  something  like  lightning  to  dance  before  the 
eyes  of  the  fat  man.  His  wrath  blazed  high  and 
fierce,  and  wheeling  around  he  whacked  Captain 
White  soundly  over  the  head  with  the  small  cane 
he  carried. 

"  Whew !  "  ejaculated  Capta^"  1  White,  delightedly, 
and  drawing  back  he  ran  at  his  victim  like  a 
combative  sheep. 

H.  Robinson  was  rolled  off  his  legs,  and  for  a 
few  minutes  he  had  a  confused  vision  of  a  sky  hung 
with  Captain  Whites,  and  an  earth  gay  with  the 
same  decorations.  There  were  Captain  Whites  to 
the  right  of  him,  Captain  Whites  to  the  left  of  him, 
Captain  Whites  behind  and  before,  and  each  figure 
was  frisking,  jumping,  rolling  up  its  sleeves,  and 
making  a  pretence  of  spitting  on  its  hands.  The 
figures  tapped  him,  pushed  him,  bowled  him  over, 
helped  him  up,  but  kept  him  steadfastly  moving  in 
the  direction  of  the  big  iron  gates. 
.  A  kind  of  warning  chant  accompanied  the  dance, 
"  Don't  come  back  —  better  stay  away,"  and  as  the 
chant  grew  louder  some  of  its  echoes  floated  to 
the  ears  of  a  quartette  of  people  emerging  from  the 
wood. 

Miss  Gastonguay  was  escorting  her  guests  to  the 


I)  fj." 


V 


I 


"I 


362 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


terminus  of  the  car  line,  and  at  a  sudden  exclamation 
from  Derrice  she  turned  her  eyes  toward  the  enor- 
mously fat  man  being  propelled  like  a  rubber  ball 
down  the  gravelled  road. 

A  slim  figure  leaped  about  it.  Sometimes  the 
figure  was  beside  the  ball,  sometimes  beyond  it,  — 
running  at  it,  trundling  it  in  the  gutter,  helping  it 
out  again,  guiding  it  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
incommoding  it  in  every  possible  way,  yet  keeping 
it  moving. 

A  hat  and  a  cane  were  accompanying  articles,  and 
went  spinning  through  the  air  like  jugglers'  toys. 

"  Has  that  quirky  captain  gone  crazy } "  exclaimed 
Miss  Gastonguay. 

No  one  spoke  but  Mrs.  White.  "If  that  man 
is  getting  kicked,"  she  observed,  with  deliberation, 
"and  Micah's  doing  it,  he  deserves  a  kicking." 

Her  sentiments  were  clear,  though  the  construc- 
tion of  her  sentence  was  slightly  equivocal,  and  with- 
out contradiction  her  hearers  continued  to  watch  the 
ball  play  until  the  ball  arrived  at  its  destination,  and 
was  caught  "p  and  whirled  away  by  a  car  into  which 
it  was  politely  assisted  by  its  attendant  demon. 

Then  they  remained  spectators  of  a  joyful  horn- 
pipe danced  by  the  superintendent  of  the  sardine  fac- 
tories, who  joyously  communed  with  himself,  "  Firsw 
round  with  H.  R.  I  lead  and  force  him  from  ring,  -^ 
what '11  be  the  end  of  the  bout  ? " 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 


NEWS    OF   THE   WANDERER. 


Dog-days  had  come,  and  on  one  of  the  days  when 
the  dogstar  rose  and  set  most  persistently  with  the 
sun  Miss  Gastonguay  was  strolling  toward  the  avenue 
gates. 

The  day  had  been  too  hot  to  walk,  too  hot  to  ride. 
Now  at  approaching  evening  she  felt  restless,  and 
looking  searchingly  at  the  road  wished  that  Derrice 
or  her  now  frequent  visitor.  Captain  White,  would 
come  to  see  her. 

Their  well-known  figures  were  not  in  sight.  Only 
a  young  man  on  a  bicycle  was  coming  down  the 
road.  He  was  barely  moving,  and,  with  a  thought  of 
the  heat  of  the  evening.  Miss  Gastonguay  murmured 
a  listless,  "  Simpleton." 

He  was  the  first  bicyclist  that  she  had  seen  for 
three  days  and,  as  he  drew  near,  she  examined  him 
curiousxy. 

There  was  something  familiar  about  his  appear- 
ance, yet  for  a  few  minutes  she  was  puzzled.    Where 

had  she  seen  before  the  straight  figure  in  the  smart 

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DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


knickerbocker  suit,  —  a  figure  so  straight  and  so  lean 
that  in  a  girl  it  would  be  called  "  willowy." 

Ah,  she  knew  now.  The  pale  face,  too  pale  for 
a  habitual  bicyclist,  gave  her  the  needec'  sugges- 
tion. 

"  Young  man,  your  way  lies  there,"  she  said,  point- 
ing to  the  j-oad  when  he  dismounted  and  approached 
her,  cap  in  hand. 

"  Not  for  a  minute,  if  you  please,"  he  said,  taking  a 
small  piece  of  paper  from  his  pocket. 

She  refused  to  touch  it,  until  he  said,  impatiently, 
"  It's  a  message  from  your  brother.  He's  dying,  and 
I  haven't  time  to  make  hay." 

She  took  it  at  this,  but  returned  it  immediately. 
"Have  I  eyes  like  microscopes  that  I  can  read 
these  scraggy  lines.?  Why  didn't  he  send  me  a 
proper  letter  ? " 

"It's  for  your  sake  it's  small,"  replied  the  young 
man,  with  a  covert  sneer,  "  I  might  have  had  to  make 
my  supper  off  it,  if  I'd  been  overhauled." 

A  sickening  dread  came  over  Miss  Gastonguay, 
and  she  averted  her  head  with  an  imperious,  "  Read 
it  to  me." 

He  ran  glibly  over  the  words,  "  *  My  dear  Jane  — 
if  I  may  call  you  so,  but  my  mind  is  not  on  small 
matters.  —  I  have  come  to  the  end  of  my  rope.  Let 
me  say  what  I  have  to  say  and  be  done.  I  have 
about  four  weeks  to  live,  possibly  three,  —  it  does  not 


^EWS  OF  THE    tVANDEkER.  5^5 

matter.  In  view  of  this,  let  the  dead  past  bury  itself. 
I  want  to  see  you,  but  especially  my  girl.  I  cannot  die 
without  it,  yet  the  hounds  are  on  my  track.  I  have 
been  dragging  myself  from  place  to  place,  but  the 
chase  will  be  over  after  I  see  you  both.  This  is  my 
only  desire, —  to^  see  you,  then  to  bestow  myself  in 
some  safe  place,'  " 

Miss  Gastonguay  interrupted  the  reading,  "  What 
does  he  mean  by  a  safe  place } " 

"  I  don't  know,  —-  that  river,  I  dare  say." 
"Go  on,"  she  said,  sternly. 
"  *  I  must  come  soon  or  I  cannot  come  at  all.  Every- 
thing is  misty  and  faded  but  bygone  days  and  Lhe 
necessity  of  keeping  out  of  sight.     I  am  tired  like  a 
chiH.     If  I  don't  come  soon  I  shall  have  no  strength 
to  leave  you,  but  I  shall  not  disgrace  you,  don't  be 
afraid.     You  will  agree  ~  you  must.     Keep  at  home 
for  a  few  days.     Be  surprised  at  nothing,  but  don't 
have  too  much   communicatir  n  with  J.  M.     He  is 
watched.     Yours  wearily,  L.'" 

"Tear  it  up,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay. 
The  young  criminal  tore  the  paper  into  fifty  pieces 
and  scattering  half  on  the  ground  put  the  rest  into 
his  pocket. 

"  Can  he  come  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Yes ;  where  is  he  now  ?  " 
"Not  far  away." 
"  He  is  still  your  hero  ? " 


r 


m 


366 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


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"  Well,  he's  having  a  pretty  tough  time  of  it  now/* 
said  the  young  man,  thoughtfully. 

«  What's  the  matter  with  him  ? " 

"  Consumption,  —  a  churchyard  cough  ;  it  nearly 
chokes  him." 

'  Will  you  come  vith  him  ? " 
It  depends  on  his  disguise/* 

Miss  Gastonguay  steadied  herself  against  one  of 
the  gates,  and  put  her  hand  against  her  side.  When 
this  disgraceful  thing  was  over,  would  her  heart  be 
at  rest  ? 

"There's  some  private  party  after  him,"  said  the 
young  man,  thoughtfully.  "  We  can't  make  out  who, 
but  they're  not  regulars.  We  nearly  got  tripped  in 
New  York.    You've  no  more  to  say  to  me,  ma'am  ? " 

"No;  tb^re  is  the  chief  of  police  driving  by  in 
that  buggy." 

The  young  criminal  turned  and  gave  him  a  cool 
stare. 

"  How  dare  you  ? "  she  said,  wrathfuUy. 

"  Madam,  one  of  the  first  points  given  in  my  school 
was  never  to  play  faint  heart.  Act  suspicious,  and 
you'll  be  suspected.  If  you  have  no  further  com- 
mands I  have  the  honour  to  wish  you  good  evening," 
and  bowing  like  an  embyro  Chesterfield,  he  mounted 
his  wheel,  and  rode  away  as  deliberately  as  he  had 
come. 

Miss  Gastonguay  retraced  her  steps.     The  warm 


NEWS  OF  THE    WANDERER. 


367 


beauty  of  the  approaching  night  had  no  power  to 
penetrate'her  soul.  The  enchanting  scene  of  lawn 
and  garden,  stately  house  and  river,  was  as  unattrac- 
tive to  her  as  a  desert  would  have  been.  Nothmg 
relieved  the  unspeakable  desolation  of  her  heart; 
nothing  lifted  the  heavy  shadow  from  her  brow. 

Chelda,  too,  was  moping.  What  had  come  to  the 
girl.?  and  she  paused  beside  the  reclinmg  chair  in 
which  she  had  been  sitting  motionless  for  two  hours. 

«  Cheldd,  are  you  ill } " 

"  No,  aunt,  I  am  not." 

"You  act  ill.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for 
you } " 

"Rossignol  oppresses  me.  Would  you  care  to 
go  to  Europe?" 

Miss  Gastonguay  laid  her  hand  kindly  on  her 
shoulder.  "My  dear,  I  shall  not  be  much  longer 
with  you.  When  I  am  gone,  go  where  you  like. 
V/hile  I  live,  let  Rossignol  be  your  abiding-place. 
When  we  were  last  in  Paris,  I  looked  one  day  at 
the  crowds  surging  through  the  streets,  and  a  great 
fright  came  over  me.  Who  among  all  that  horde 
of  strangers  would  care  if  I  were  to  drop  dead? 
Here  in  my  own  State  would  be  some  to  say,  '  So 
Jane  Gastonguay  has  gone.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it* 
Later  on,  you,  too,  may  feel  this  love  of  country.  I 
have  misgivings  about  you.  I  have  not  trained  you 
aright,  but  I  have  got  to  leave  it  all.    You  have  been 


368 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


patient  with  an  old  woman's  whims.  Think  kindly 
of  me  when  I  am  gone,  and,  if  you  wish,  gb  now  for 
a  few  days  to  visit  some  of  your  friends." 

"  I  do  not  wish  it,"  said  Chelda,  in  a  dry,  hard 
voice,  and  turning  her  head  away. 

Tears  were  streaming  down  her  cheeks.  "You 
will  not  regret  your  devotion,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay, 
softly,  and  leaving  her  she  continued  her  walk  in  the 
direction  of  the  stable. 

The  coachman  was  just  locking  up  for  the  night, 
only  leaving  open  the  pony's  private  door. 

"Jones,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  "tell  McTavish 
to  bring  up  the  steam  yacht  from  the  town  and  keep 
hei  at  my  wharf.  I  may  want  a  trip  at  any  hour  of 
the  day  or  night.     Let  Stevens  stay  with  him." 

"  All  right,  ma'am,"  replied  the  man,  touching  his 
cap.  Then  he  ventured  a  question.  "  I'm  afraid 
you  don't  feel  as  spry  as  you  might  ?  " 

"  No,  Jones,  I  don't." 

"  It  makes  me  feel  bad  myself,  ma'am,  to  hear  it," 
he  replied,  with  so  much  feeling  that  she  turned 
abruptly  away. 

"  Somethin's  gnawing  at  her,"  he  continued,  un- 
easily, "and  she's  freakish.  She  ain't  been  in  that 
little  puffer  all  summe»-,  and  now  she  wants  it  handy 
all  the  time.  Folks  that  has  things  don't  enjoy 
'em,  and  those  that  hasn't  'em  would.  It's  a  queer 
world." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE   RETURN   OF    THE   WANDERER. 

Chief  of  Police  Gordon  stood  on  the  station  plat- 
form of  the  Rossignol  branch  of  the  Maine  Central 
Railway. 

He  had  been  earnestly  warned,  adjured,  and  bribed 
to  trust  no  deputy,  but  to  scrutinise  himself  the 
arrivals  in  every  train-load  of  visitors  to  Rossignol. 

A  certain  criminal,  whose  full  description  was 
given  him,  might  appear  before  him  at  any  time. 
He  was  also  to  keep  under  corxstant  espionage  the 
households  of  Miss  Gastonguay  and  Justin  Mercer, 
for  with  one  of  these  two  persons  the  criminal  might 
be  expected  to  communicate. 

Chief  Gordon  did  not  know  what  the  criminal's 
name  was.  The  detective  with  whom  he  had  been 
corresponding  called  him  "Blackhead,"  and  for 
"Blackhead"  he  was  therefore  looking  as  he  stood 
in  the  sunshine  with  hands  clasped  behind  him,  his 
gaze  going  quickly  from  one  to  another  of  the  mem- 
bers of  an  excursion  party  from  up  in  the  woods,  who 
had  corae  to  spend  a  day  by  the  shore. 


n  ,1 1 


370 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


*'  Blackhead  "  would  probably  not  be  among  them, 
although  he  might  be.  He  also  might  be  in  any 
disguise.  The  detective  had  warned  him  that  there 
was  only  one  other  being  who  could  compete  with 
him  for  dissimulation,  and  that  being  was  not  an 
inhabitant  of  this  mortal  sphere. 

He  was  in  reality  a  man  of  middle  age,  but  he 
might  descend  upon  Rossignol  in  the  guise  of  an  old 
man,  an  old  woman,  a  bride,  or  a  bashful  youth. 

However,  transformed  as  successfully  as  he  might 
be,  he  surely  would  attempt  nothing  as  loud  as  this, 
and  the  chief  smiled  broadly,  and  glanced  past  rows 
of  happy  farmers*  wives  tugging  along  swarms  of 
children,  and  accompanied  by  husbands  stiff  and  un- 
comfortable in  Sunday  coats  and  stiff  collars,  to  a 
group  beside  the  hack  drivers. 

These  latter  were  splitting  their  sides  in  amuse- 
ment. An  old  woman  from  far  away  up  the  line 
had  come  to  town  for  the  day.  Her  dress  reminded 
the  chief  of  pictures  of  his  grandmother.  How 
natural  and  old-fashioned  it  was.  Verily,  reality  was 
stronger  than  art.  No  one  could  counterfeit  so 
naturally  an  old  resident  from  some  clearing  among 
the  pines,  a  little  "  high  "  from  the  prospect  of  her 
day's  outing. 

Her  daughter,  who  was  with  her,  was  suffering 
agonies  of  mortification.  She  was  a  pale,  consump- 
tive-looking girl  with  big  feet,  a  scant  dress,  and  a 


T^rjj? 


^HE  RETURN  OF  THE    WANDERER,  371 

white  veil  reaching  only  to  her  nose.  This  veil  she 
kept  twitching  nervously  as  she  plucked  at  her 
mother's  shawl  and  begged  her  to  come  on. 

The  old  mother,  whose  poke-bonnet  was  pushed  far 
back  from  her  crop  of  bushy  white  hair,  would  not 
give  up  the  pleasing  excitement  of  making  a  scene. 
Her  cheeks  grew  redder  and  redder  while  she  chaf- 
fered with  the  hackmen.  For  how  much  would 
they  take  her  out  of  town  to  see  a  friend  ? 

Who  was  her  friend,  they  asked,  and  how  far  was  it  > 
This  the  old  woman  would  not  commit  herself  to 
revealing.  She  was  not  going  to  walk  in  any  trap 
with  her  eyes  open,  and,  catching  sight  of  the  chief, 
and  impressed  by  his  air  of  authority,  she  appealed 
to  him. 

He  good-humouredly  asked  her  where  she  wished 
to  go. 

To  pay  the  interest  on  her  mortgage,  and  she 
shook  her  bag. 

"  But  where,  to  whom } " 

"To  the  rich  old  lady,  the  French  one." 

"  Miss  Gastonguay,  —-  yes,  she  has  mortgages  in 
plenty,  but  you  want  to  see  her  lawyer." 

The  old  woman  said  she  would  see  no  lawyer, 
Her  business  was  with  Miss  Gastonguay. 

The  chief  of  police  was  not  surprised.  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay's  good  nature  was  well  known.  She  had  a 
large  number  of  hangers-on. 


■A 

f 


1* 

I 
If 


372 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


**  I  guess  you  can  make  a  special  bargain  with  her, 
can't  you,  boys  ? "  and  he  appealed  to  the  hackmen. 

"  I'll  take  you  for  fifteen  cents  apiece,"  spoke  out 
one  bolder  than  the  rest. 

"  Ma,  ain't  there  a  car  line  ?  "  interrupted  the  girl, 
in  a  sudden  access  of  economy. 

"  Go  'way,"  exhorted  her  mother.  "  We  don't  have 
no  fun  only  once  in  a  dog's  age,"  and  she  sidled  her 
hoop-skirted,  beshawled  figure  into  the  hack  indi- 
cated, and  dragged  her  protesting  daughter  after  her. 

The  chief  of  police  smiled  and  strolled  away. 
"Blackhead"  had  not  arrived  on  this  train.  He 
would  go  down  to  the  city  hall,  write  up  yesterday's 
report,  and  then  come  back  in  time  for  the  "  noon  " 
Trom  Bangor. 

Meanwhile  the  old  v/oman  was  lying  in  a  comer 
of  the  vehicle,  her  face  like  death,  her  hand  piessed 
convulsively  on  her  chest. 

The  hackman  chuckled  when  he  drew  up  his  horse 
before  the  stone  steps.  He  would  have  some  more 
fun  here.  To  his  disappointment,  Miss  Gastonguay 
was  in  one  of  her  grim  humours.  Remorselessly 
suppressing  the  old  woman,  who  had  again  grown 
hilarious,  she  speedily  conducted  her  into  the  house. 
There  was  nothing  revealed  to  the  hackman's  back- 
ward glance  but  a  big  closed  door,  and  with  no 
further  news  for  his  comrades  he  drove  slowly  back 
to  town. 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE   WANDERER, 


373 


y< 


Miss  Gastonguay  led  the  way  to  her  own  room. 
With  an  unfaltering  step  she  walked  across  it,  threw 
open  the  door  of  her  dressing-room,  and  pointed  to 
the  pale  daughter,  no  longer  shrinking  but  kicking 
manfully  against  her  petticoats. 

"Go  in  there,"  she  said,  "and  stay  till  you  are 
wanted.     You  will  find  food  and  drink." 

The  pale  girl  went  in,  tossed  her  hat  and  veil  in  a 
corner,  and,  seizing  a  handful  of  fruit,  threw  herself 
down  on  the  lounge. 

"  When  you  take  off  those  trappings,  I  will  speak 
to  you,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay  to  her  remaining 
guest,  then,  turning  her  back,  she  stared  at  her 
empty  hearth. 

The  old  woman  sank  into  a  chair,  detached  her 
bonnet  strings  and  white  wig,  took  off  her  shawl, 
then,  getting  up,  stepped  out  of  her  widespreading 
gown. 

Miss  Gastonguay  looked  around.  Her  first  sensa- 
tion was  not  one  of  bitter  shame  and  disgrace,  but 
rather  one  of  dull  surprise.  Was  that  old  man  her 
brother  ? 

He  was  doubled  up  in  a  paroxysm  of  coughing. 
When  he  recovered  himself,  and  the  colour  faded 
from  his  face,  he  asked,  peevishly,  "  Will  you  get  me 
something  hot  ? " 

"  Louis,"  she  said,  like  one  in  a  dream,  "  Louis, 

Louis." 


I 


374 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  Yes,  Louj'i,  —  and  you  are  Jane.  Good  Heavens ! 
Do  I  look  as  old  as  you  do  ? " 

"And  yesterday  we  were  children,"  she  said,  with 
a  gesture  of  unspeakable  despair.  Her  misery  of 
expectation  and  sickening  apprehension  was  all  gone. 
The  trivial  thought  of  his  personal  appearance  drove 
all  deeper  emotion  from  her  mind.  And  in  spite  of 
the  change,  how  natural  it  seemed  to  have  him  here. 
How  natural  to  take  up  her  old  r61e  of  indulgent 
sister. 

"  Lie  here,"  she  said,  arranging  the  pillows  on  a 
sofa,  "  and  what  shall  I  bring  you }  " 

"  Brandy,  brandy  —  and  hot  water.     Be  quick." 

He  was  gasping  for  breath,  and  she  hurried  away. 

"Chelda,"  she  said,  pausing  an  instant  in  the 
music-room,  "  I  have  some  guests.  I  do  not  wish 
to  be  disturbed." 

Chelda  bent  her  head  lower  over  the  broken  string 
that  she  had  just  discovered  in  her  violin,  and  only 
waiting  until  her  aunt's  footsteps  had  died  away,  she 
hurried  out-of-doors. 

Presently  she  saw  Prosperity  coming  toward  the 
avenue.     "  Where  are  you  going } "  she  asked. 

"To  send  a  boy  from  the  cottages  to  Captain 
White  with  this,"  and  he  displayed  an  envelope  on 
which  something  was  written. 

"  Give  it  to  me.  I,  too,  have  a  message  to  send 
him." 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE   WANDERER. 


375 


She  reid  the  scribbled  words,  "  The  two  express 
parcels  for  Derrice  have  arrived.  Let  her  come  up 
to  lunch  and  see  them." 

"  On  second  thoughts  I  won't  send  any  message," 
she  said,  handing  the  envelope  back. 

Prosperity  trotted  on,  and  Chelda,  biting  at  her 
under  lip,  paced  nervously  to  and  fro  under  the 
poplars. 

The  envelope  was  handed  to  Captain  White,  as  he 
stood  on  one  of  the  wharves,  vigorously  scolding  the 
crew  of  a  sailboat  for  heating  and  spoiling  their  fish 
by  carrying  too  many  in  a  load.  It  was  a  very  busy 
morning  for  him ;  yet,  after  reading  the  few  lines,  he 
left  the  boat's  crew,  and,  hastily  making  his  way  to 
Justin's  bank,  exchanged  a  few  words  with  him. 

His  second  call  was  on  the  chief  of  police.  He 
wished  to  find  out  whether  that  official  was  display- 
ing any  unusual  amount  of  energy.  No,  he  was 
not.  He  sat  quietly  at  his  desk,  and  only  looked 
up  with  a  yawn  when  Captain  White's  head  was 
stuck  in  the  doorway,  with  a  query  as  to  whether 
there  was  anything  new  going  on. 

There  was  nothing  beyond  the  usual  routine,  and 
Captain  White  strolled  up  to  the  station. 

The  telegraph  operator  was  not  a  particular  friend 
of  his.  Indeed,  they  had  lately  quarrelled  over  some 
delayed  telegrams  with  regard  to  an  order  for  sar- 
dines, and  the  red-headed  operator  glanced  curiously 


■f 

I 


^  m 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 

at  the  usually  busy  captain,  who,  in  a  strangely  lazy 
way,  lounged  about  his  office  for  the  space  of  an 
hour  and  a  half. 

At  the  end  of  that  time,  however,  Captain  White 
disappeared.  He  had  been  stretched  on  a  bench 
reading  a  newspaper,  but  at  the  stroke  of  twelve 
he  got  up,  looked  at  his  watch,  and  dawdled  outside. 

Once  around  the  corner  of  the  brick  building, 
however,  he  hastily  entered  a  carriage,  made  some 
remark  in  a  low  voice  to  the  driver,  and  was  con- 
ducted at  a  smart  pace  through  the  tov^Ti,  and  at 
a  rattling  one  outside  it,  until  he  reached  French 
Cross. 

Without  the  for  nality  of  a  ring  he  entered  the 
old  chateau,  and  ran  up-stairs  to  Miss  Gastonguay's 
room. 

"  K.  Robinson  is  on  his  way  down ! ''  he  ejaculated, 
when  the  door  was  thrown  open.  "  He  has  got  wind 
of  the  affair.  I  learned  telegraphy  when  I  was  young, 
and  just  heard  the  message  humming  over  the  wires. 
We  must  get  you  out  of  this,"  and  he  looked  at  the 
man  on  the  sofa  as  if  he  had  known  him  all  his  life. 

The  latter  got  up,  and,  in  weary  haste  and  with- 
out surprise,  donned  his  feminine  garments. 

Miss  Gastonguay  grew  deathly  pale.  "  What  about 
Derrice  ? " 

"  What  about  Derrice's  good  name  ? "  said  Captain 
White,  sharply.     "Come,  let   us  get  out  of  this. 


THE   RETURN  OF  THE  WANDERER. 

Where. is  the  other  one?"  and  he  brusned  past  her 
to  the  dressing-room. 

Miss  Gastonguay  stared  helplessly  at  her  brother. 
His  shaking  hands  were  pinning  the  shawl  together. 
With  a  groan  she  seized  a  hat  and  wrap  for  herself, 
and  followed  him  as  he  slipped  noiselessly  down  the 
staircase. 


10 

''S 

id 

g» 

s. 

le 

WIKKk^- 

• 

h- 

Lit 

in 

i^^^^^^B^I 

! 


I 


I 


US; 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 


H.    ROBINSON    A'iAIN. 


Justin  would  not  permit  Derrice  to  go  alone  to 
French  Cross.  Captain  White  had  assured  him  that 
he  had  better  allow  her  to  do  so  ;  that  to  accompany 
her  at  such  an  unusual  time  would  be  sure  to  call 
attention  to  them,  but  Justin  would  not  be  per- 
suaded. 

He  relied  on  the  presence  of  the  large  number  of 
strangers  in  the  town  to  avert  observation  from  their 
movements.  In  any  case,  he  would  not  leave  his 
young  wife  to  face  alone  this  crisis  in  her  life.  And 
now  he  must  tell  her  of  their  mission.  She  knew 
that  her  father  had  not  been  well,  but  she  did  not 
dream  that  his  illness  was  serious. 

"Derrice,"  he  said,  looking  into  her  quietly  smil- 
ing face,  "  I  have  not  told  you  why  we  are  going  to 
French  Cross." 

"  No ;  you  are  strangely  mysterious,  but  I  always 
like  to  go  with  you  whether  I  understand  or  not." 

"  Darling,  there  is  some  one  waiting  to  see  you,  — 

some  one  whom  you  dearly  love.' 

378 


If 


H.  ROBINSON  AGAIN. 


379 


«*  Not  my  father  ?  Oh,  not  my  father,  — my  dear, 
dear  father  ? " 

His  manner  was  convincing.  For  a  minute  her 
joy  overcame  her,  then  she  burst  into  questions. 
"  Why  had  she  not  known,  —  why  had  he  not  come 
to  her  ? " 

"You  shall  ask  him,  Derrice,  but  you  will  be 
cautious.     He  is  ill." 

"Yes,  yes,  but  what  do  you  mean  by  ill,  —  not 
very  ill  ?  —  oh,  don't  say  that,  Justin,  dear  Justin," 
and  in  a  tremor  of  fear  she  clung  to  his  arm,  and 
wildly  scrutinised  his  face. 

"  Rather  ill,  I  fear,  but  you  will  be  brave.  You 
will  not  make  him  worse.  Come,  let  me  see  you 
compose  yourself  ;  we  shall  soon  arrive." 

She  hid  her  face  on  his  shoulder,  and  cried  quietly, 
but  when  the  carriage  stopped  she  put  her  handker- 
chief in  her  pocket,  and  took  on  a  resolute  expression. 

Prosperity  ushered  them  into  the  untenanted 
reception-room,  and  said  that  his  miscress  had  gone 

out. 

"  She  has  some  guests  ? "  said  Justin. 

They  had  gone  with  her,  Prosperity  assured  him, 
also  Captain  White. 

"  Is  Miss  Chelda  at  home  ?  ** 

"  Yes,  sir." 

«« Just  ask  her  to  see  us." 

Prosperity  disappeared,  and  Justin  uneasily  sur- 


I 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


veyed  Derrice,  who  stood  with  clasped  hands  near 
the  door. 

Presently  Chelda  came  to  them.  She  was  as  com- 
posed as  usual,  but  there  were  two  red  spots  high  up  on 
her  cheeks,  and  her  lips  were  nervously  compressed. 

"  Oh,  Chelda,  where  is  my  father  ?  "  cried  Derrice, 
running  to  meet  her. 

Chelda  glanced  at  Justin.  How  much  did  he 
know  >  His  expression  told  her  that  Captain  White 
had  revealed  everything  to  him,  but  his  slight  nod 
toward  his  wife  warned  her  to  be  careful. 

"  Your  father  has  gone  away,"  she  murmured.  "  I 
think  something  recalled  him." 

"  Gone  —  and  without  seeing  me  !  My  poor  sick 
father  !  Oh,  how  could  you  let  him  go  ?  Did  he  not 
want  to  see  me }     Will  he  not  come  back  ? " 

Derrice  was  feverishly  awaiting  a  reply,  when  an 
extraordinary  change  came  over  Chelda.  Her 
puzzled  gaze  had  gone  wonderingly  out  the  window. 
It  now  came  back  with  rapid  alarm. 

"Derrice,"  she  said,  sharply,  and  seizing  her  by 
the  shoulder,  "  do  you  value  your  father's  life,  —  his 
reputation  ? " 

«'  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  replied  the  startled  girl.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

**  Then  dry  those  tears,"  said  Chelda,  sternly,  and 
with  her  own  handkerchief  she  wiped  Derrice's  burn- 
ing cheeks.    "  Say  nothing  of  your  father ;  you  know 


H.  ROBINSON  AGAIN. 


381 


nothing  about  him.  He  has  not  been  here.  You 
are  merely  making  a  call.  Sit  down  and  occupy 
yourself  with  that  book,  —  or,  better  still,  go  to  the 
music-room.  You  will  find  a  sonata  open  on  the  piano. 
Play,  play  as  you  value  your  father's  safety.  Do 
you  hear  me  ? "  and  she  gave  her  a  slight  push 
toward  the  door. 

"  I  do,"  said  Derrice,  in  terrified  accents,  and  ap- 
pealing to  her  husband,  "  but  what  does  this  mean  ? 
Can  you  not  explain  ? " 

His  lips  formed  the  words,  "  Not  now ;  go,  my 
darling,"  and  with  inexpressible  sadness  he  waved 
her  from  him. 

Derrice  went  stumbling  through  the  doorway. 
She  had  one  glimpse  of  another  carriage  being 
driven  furiously  up  to  the  door,  and  an  inflamed 
crimson  visage  peering  from  it,  then  she  dizzily 
found  herself  seated  at  the  piano,  her  fingers  trem- 
blingly picking  out  the  harmonies  of  an  immortal 
composition. 

Justin  marvelled  at  Chelda's  self-possession.  In 
icy  dignity  and  haughtiness  she  stood  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  confronting  a  man  who  was  an  embodi- 
ment of  enraged  and  speechless  vulgarity. 

Behind  him  lurked  the  chief  of  police  of  the  town, 
lookihg  slightly  ashamed  of  himself,  and  throwing  an 
apologetic  glance  toward  Justin. 

H.  Robinson  had  no  time  for  civilities  to-day,  and 


MMMll* 


382 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


he  was  much  too  angry  to  be  overawed  by  Chelda. 
"  Where  is  that  man  ? "  he  gasped,  after  a  time. 

Chelda  in  superb  disdain  looked  over  his  head  at 
the  chief  of  police.     How  much  did  he  know  ? 

He  knew  but  little.  With  professional  jealousy 
and  contrariety  H.  Robinson  had  kept  the  main  part 
of  his  secret  to  himself.  He  had,  moreover,  been 
bullying  his  partial  colleague.  Chelda  knew  it  by 
the  sulky  expression  of  her  fellow  townsman. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Gordon,"  she  said,  cuttingly 
ignoring  the  remark  just  made  to  her.  "  Will  you 
not  sit  down  }  Mr.  Mercer  will  entertain  you  while 
I  talk  to  this  — this  —  " 

She  hesitated,  and  her  hesitation  and  failure  to 
characterise  her  caller  were  more  stinging  than  any 
spoken  words  could  have  been.  "  Will  you  follow 
me  ? "  she  went  on,  loftily,  and  she  swept  from  the 
room. 

H.  Robinson  thought  it  better  to  obey  her,  and 
with  a  furious  backward  glance  at  the  chief  of  police, 
who  was  snickering  openly,  he  clumsily  endeavoured 
to  keep  off  the  train  of  her  gown  as  she  ushered  him 
into  the  dining-room. 

"  You  had  better  get  yourself  something  to  drink," 
she  said,  waving  him  toward  the  sideboard. 

He  laid  his  hand  on  a  silver  tankard,  and  his 
small  eyes  rolled  menacingly  at  her  over  the  glass 
he  raised  to  his  lips. 


H.  ROBINSON  AGAIN. 

«  Where  is  Lancaster  ? "  he  ejaculated,  as  he  set 

it  down. 

«  You  are  very  foolish  to  mention  names." 
He   with    difficulty   withdrew    a    paper    tightly 
wedged  in  his  pocket.     « I'm  at  the  end  of  my  pa- 
tience,—it's  only  out  of  respect  co  the  family  we 
come  quietly  like  this.     Where  is  our  prisoner  ? " 

«  Not  here." 

"He's  in  this  house,  or  mighty  near  it.  He 
might  have  been  nabbed  this  mornmg  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  that  blatherskite  in  there.  He  come  on 
the  train.  He  ain't  left.  You've  got  to  give  him 
up.  Two  minutes  to  decide.  I've  got  a  patrolman 
outside.  It  won't  take  the  three  of  us  long  to  go 
over    this    house.      You  can't  resist  law,    young 

woman." 

« Do  you  really  expect  that  Mr.  Lancaster  is  in 

this  house  ? " 

«  Oh,  come  off  the  roof ! "   he  said,  wrathfully. 
« You  can't  fool  me.     The  old  woman  game  won't 

work." 

"  Is  it  that  poor  old  woman  you  are  suspectmg  ? 

"  That  poor  old  woman  !  Blankety  blank,  yes. 
I'm  going  for  the  chief.     The  two  minutes  are  up." 

<«  Wait  one  instant.  My  aunt  and  her  friends  aie 
V  diking  in  the  wood.  You  had  better  go  find  them 
and  ascertain  for  yourself  that  the  old  woman  is  a 
veritable  old  woman." 


384 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


The  detective  smote  the  table  with  his  fist.  "  Is 
that  true  ?  You  ain't  foolin',  —  they're  actually  out 
of  the  house  ?  " 

"  It  is  quite  true." 

H.  Robinson  lost  control  of  himself,  and  began  to 
swear  fluently  and  to  blindly  search  for  the  door. 

Chelda  slipped  before  him,  but  she  was  as  a  straw 
in  the  fury  of  the  wind.  She  would  be  forced  to 
allow  him  to  go  raging  through  the  house,  when  to 
her  relief  there  was  a  pressure  from  the  hall  and 
Captain  White  insinuated  himself  into  the  room. 

"  Hello !  "  he  said,  deftly  shutting  the  door  behind 
him.     "  So  you've  turned  up  again,  piggy." 

H.  Robinson  hurled  an  offensive  epithet  at  him 
and  ordered  him  to  let  him  pass. 

"  Not  so  fast,"  said  Captain  White,  gripping  him 
by  the  arm.  "  You  just  sit  down  and  talk  this  affair 
over  with  me.  It  ain't  one  to  be  left  to  ladies. 
Now,  what  do  you  want,  Solomon  Thundercloud  ? " 

<<  I  want  that  man,"  said  H.  Robinson,  shaking  his 
blue  paper  in  his  face. 

"  H'm  —  Louis  Lancaster  —  accused  of  so  and  so 
—  wanted  for  so  and  so.  Well,  you've  come  to  the 
right  place,  my  friend." 

"  He's  here.  I  knew  it,"  and  the  detective  gave 
Chelda  a  sullen  glare. 

"Sit  down,  sit  down,"  pursued  Captain  White. 
**  Don't  get  in  such  a  heat.     He'll  be  back  soon,' 


»> 


tl.  ROBINSON  AGAIN. 


3«5 


«« Where  is  he  ? "  vociferated  the  angry  man. 
"Just  taking  a  httle  turn  with  Miss  Gastonguay. 
You  know  she's  got  a  soft  heart  for  rogues.'* 
"  A  turn  where  t      I've  got  to  arrest  him." 
"Yes,  yes,  I  know.     You've  got  a  very  decent 
four-wheeler  to  take  him  to  jail.     You  shall  have 
him  this  time,  sure  pop.     I  <5uess  our  chief  of  police: 
ain't  as  smart  as  you  are." 

"He's  a—  "  began  the  detective,  then  he  looked 
at  Chelda  and  stretched  out  his  hand  toward  the  door. 
"  If  you  don't  keep  still  and  discuss  this  matter," 
cried  Captain  White,  falling  into  sudden  excitement, 
"  I'll  give  you  a  walloping  compared  with  which  our 
little  play  the  other  day  would  be  but  the  breath  of  a 
suggestion.  Keep  still,  you  idiot.  You've  got  the 
day  before  you,  and  I'm  on  your  side.  I  vow  to  you, 
you  sha'n't  leave  French  Cross  till  you  lay  your  hand 
on  that  man's  shoulder." 

H.  Robinson  sulkily  lowered  himself  into  a  chair. 

"  First  and  foremost,  I'm  not    bamboozling  you. 

Lancaster  is  here.     He  wanted  to  have  a  talk  with 

Miss  Gastonguay,  and  she's  taken  him  out  in  her 

steam  yacht." 

H.  Robinson  put  his  hands  up  to  his  head  and 
clutched  his  scanty  side  locks. 

V  They're  coming  back,  they're  coming  back.  I'll 
stake  all  I  have  on  it.  You  wait  here.  I'll  wait 
with  you." 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  I  must  go  out  on  the  river,"  said  the  detective, 
m  a  hollow  voice.     "  I  must  follow." 

"  Hold  on,"  ejaculated  Captain  White,  pushing 
him  back  on  his  seat.  Then  he  opened  the  door. 
«*  Gordon,  Gordon,  come  here." 

The  chief  of  police  came  hurrying  to  the  spot. 
"  Look  here,"  said  Captain  White,  "  tell  that  man 
I'm  not  a  fake.** 

"  What's  up  now } "  asked  the  newcomer,  eyeing 
the  detective. 

"He's  after  a  bank  breaker,"  pursued  Captain 
White,  "  and  I'm  trying  to  give  him  information,  and 
he  thinks  I'm  lying." 

"  Oh,  he  is,  is  he  }  I  didn't  know  but  that  he  was 
dreaming  with  his  eyes  open,"  said  the  chief,  super- 
ciliously surveying  the  purple-visaged  man  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table.  "  He  don't  belong  to  ary 
staff.     I  never  heard  of  him  before." 

"  He's  all  right,"  said  Captain  White,  generously. 
"Tell  him  I  ain't  a  liar  by  profession." 

"Which  is  more  than  he  is,"  said  the  chief, 
angrily  pouring  out  his  accumulated  vials  of  wrath 
on  the  stranger,  "  considering  all  the  names  he  called 
me  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  And  here's  my  gold  watch,  worth  one  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars,"  continued  Captain  White,  "seals 
and  chain,  if  the  absentee,  whom  I  guess  we'll  not 
name,  ain't  forthcoming  within  twenty-four  hours." 


H.  ROBINSON  AGAIN. 


387 


"He's  a  sick  man,  he  may  die,"  sputtered  H. 
Robinson. 

"  Sick  man  — -  ho,  ho  I  I  like  that,"  and  Chijf  Gor- 
don, remembering  the  vigorous  old  woman  at  the 
station,  began  to  laugh  uproariously,  but  checked 
himself  at  the  sight  of  Chelda's  motionless  figure,  as 
she  stood  at  one  of  the  windows  with  her  back  to 
them. 

« All  right ;  go  out  on  the  Bay,"  said  Captain 
White,  restoring  his  watch  to  his  pocket.  "  Go  with 
him,  chief.  You'll  find  him  easy  a  nong  the  hun- 
dreds of  yachts  from  the  cottages  and  the  hotels, 
and  he'll  come  back  while  you're  gone,  and  I'll  help 
him  give  you  the  slip." 

H.  Robinson  was  on  the  horns  of  a  dilemma.  He 
squirmed  uneasily,  but  finally  decided  to  trust  Captain 
White. 

"  Done,"  he  muttered.  "  But  you've  got  to  stay 
with  me,  you  local  man." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  chief,  laconically. 

"  And  as  two  able-bodied  men  might,  with  a  little 
help,  manage  to  grip  one  sick  fellow,  I  guess  you'll 
send  that  patrolman  back  to  the  city  hall,"  said 
Captain  White. 

The  chief  went  outside,  and  Captain  White  ad- 
dressed the  silent  figure  at  the  window.  "Miss 
Chelda,  we  want  to  hav*;  as  little  fuss  about  this 
thing  as  possible.     Will  you  give  orders  to  have  some 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


fishing-rods  for  us  to  thrash  the  river,  while  we  wait 
for  the  return  of  that  party  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  walking  quickly  past  them,  "  and 
I  will  have  lunch  served  here  for  you  at  once." 

There  was  a  suspicious  readiness  in  the  young 
lady's  munner,  and  H.  Robinson  restlessly  addressed 
his  companion.  "  I  guess  she's  told  you  what  a  fine 
bird  your  friend  Lancaster  is  ?  " 

**  Righ^  you  are." 

"  It's  an  o^Jence  to  interfere,  obstruct,  or  oppose 
an  officer  —  " 

"  Skip  that,"  interposed  Captain  White.  "  You've 
got  sense  enough  to  know  that  the  mistress  of  this 
place  is  an  exception  to  all  rules,  and  she's  wrapped 
up  in  Lancaster's  daughter." 

"  So,  so,  —  I  know  it." 

"  And  ain't  you  always  coming  to  places  in  your 
practice  or  profession,  or  whatever  you  call  your 
dirty  work,  when  a  few  bank-bills  spread  out  will 
cover  a  lot  of  iniquity  that  poverty  would  expose } " 

"  You  bet  I  do,  but  this  ain't  a  job  for  buying 
off." 

"  Who  said  it  was .?  You  get  through  it,  though, 
without  so  much  quacking,  and  you'll  find  it  will  be 
worth  your  while." 

The  detective  went  for  a  stroll  through  the  hall. 
The  door  of  the  music-room  was  closed.  If  he  could 
have  looked  inside,  he  would  have  seen  the  half-faint- 


H.  ROBINSON  AGAIN. 


389 


ing  daughter  of  the  man  he  was  in  search  of,  lying 
on  one  of  the  green  velvet  benches. 

Her  husband  was  on  his  kneels  beside  her.  He 
had  come  to  the  room  just  in  time  to  catch  her  as  she 
fell  from  the  piano  stool.     Now  she  had  recovered 

and   was   whispering   passionately,    «*  Justin, if   I 

should  ever  grow  weak  and  nervous,  and  ask  you  to 
tell  me  anything  you  might  know  to  the  prejudice 
of  my  father,  you  would  not  do  so  ?  " 

"  No,  darling ;  no,  no." 

« I  would  not  really  wish  to  hear  it.  I  could  not 
bear  it.  He  was  so  good,  so  perfect.  I  never  found 
any  fault  in  him.     You  liked  him,  Justin  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  own  wife,  I  did." 

«  And  Justin,  if  ever  we  should  have  a  little  child, 
or  if  I  should  have  to  die  and  leave  it,  you  would 
never  tell  it  anything  against  the  father  of  its 
mother } " 

"Never,  never,  God  helping  me.  I  will  guard  his 
reputation  as  I  would  my  own  ;  but  do  not  speak  of 
leaving  me.  I  cannot  bear  it,"  and  gathering  her 
exhausted  figure  in  his  arms,  he  carried  her  to  the 
open  window. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 


A   BRANCH    CUT   OFF. 

At  tea  o'clock  that  night,  there  was  not  in  all  the 
State  an  uglier  and  sorer  man  than  H.  Robinson. 

He  impatiently  thumped  Miss  Gastonguay's  binoc- 
ular on  his  fat  knee.  All  the  afternoon  he  had  been 
searching  the  glittering  surface  of  Merry  Meeting 
Bay.  There  was  no  steam  yacht  in  sight  carrying  a 
blue  flag  with  a  pine-tree  on  its  fluttering  folds.  No 
brace  of  blue  lights  appeared  nov/  that  soft  darkness 
had  enveloped  the  Bay,  although  various  yachts  and 
boats  bearing  lights  of  every  other  colour  of  the  rain- 
bow had  come  slipping  in  from  the  sea  to  their 
resting-places  beside  the  wharves. 

He  had  been  tricked.  The  treacherous  young 
woman  and  the  slippery  sailor  had  thrown  dust  in 
his  eyes.  Well,  he  would  make  them  pay  for  their 
trickery  before  the  dance  was  over,  and  he  ground 
his  teeth  and  glowered  at  his  two  companions. 

The  chief  of  police,  soothed  by  the  calm  beauty  of 
the  moonless  night  and  happy  from  the  elaborate 
dinner  that  had  been  served  to  them  here  on  the 

390 


A  BRANCH  CUT  OFF. 


391 


roof  of  the  boat-house,  was  peacefully  snoring  in  a 
hammock.  He  only  partly  understood  the  affair. 
There  was  some  humbuggerj'  about  it,  and  he  could 
not  rid  himseJf  of  the  conviction  that  H.  Robinson 
was  slightly  cracked,  and  that  the  volatile  Captain 
White  for  some  hidden  reason  was  aiding  and  abet- 
ting him  in  his  delusion.  Anyway,  he  didn't  like 
being  sworn  at,  and  although  he  would  by  no  means 
defeat  the  ends  of  justice,  he  earnestly  hoped  that 
Miss  Gastonguay  would  land  her  mysterious  old 
woman  and  girl  at  some  port  down  the  coast,  and 
let  this  Boston  fellow  go  home  with  his  tail  between 
his  legs. 

Captain  White  was  not  asleep.  H.  Robmson  knew 
that  he  was  only  pretending  to  nap  in  his  big  wicker 
chair,  and  that  he  heard  every  one  of  the  occasional 
sentences  growled  at  him. 

The  detective  fumed  and  fretted.  He  would  wait 
one  hour  longer.  He  would  wait  half  an  hour.  He 
would  only  wait  ten  minutes.  He  would  announce 
his  secret  and  receive  city  aid  to  go  in  search  of 
the  criminal.  But  suppose  he  had  lost  him?  At 
station  one,  station  two,  and  three,  up  to  the  last 
number  of  stations,  he  would  be  jeered  at  in  the 
city  of  Boston.  Why  had  he  not  called  in  the  help 
of  some  of  his  former  colleagues  ?  Served  him  right 
for  playing  dog  in  the  manger.  No  one  would  ever 
trust  him  again.     And  he  mused  on  miserably,  his 


392 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


wrath  burning  higlicr  and  higher.  At  last  it  reached 
a  point  where  it  began  to  flicker.  Self-pity  and 
deadly  vcarinejs  were  overcoming  him.  His  throb- 
birg  held  sank  lower  and  lower,  his  aching  limbs 
grew  le55f,  remindful.  He  thought  drowsily  of  his 
subservient  wife,  his  quiet  home,  his  comfortable 
bed.  He  would  give  five  dollars  for  an  hour's  rest, 
and  with  a  gradual  blending  of  all  his  emotions  into 
peaceful  oblivion  he  fell  sound  asleep. 

He  slept  he  knew  not  how  long,  but  he  waked 
up  with  a  jerk,.and  turned  his  rubicund  face  up  to 
Captain  White's  strangely  pale  one. 

"  Your  prisoner  has  come,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

H.  Robinson  tottered  to  his  feet  and  looked  over 
the  roof  railing.  Down  there  was  a  smooth-lined, 
shapely  yacht  rubbing  herself  like  a  snow-white  duck 
against  the  narrow  wharf.  Two  or  three  people  were 
standing  about,  —  he  could  just  make  out  their  dusky 
outlines.  They  were  all  wonderfully  quiet.  He  must 
get  below,  and  he  hurried  down  the  ;'iteps,  carefully 
placing  his  feet  on  the  bright  places  indicated  by 
the  lantern  held  up  to  him  by  Captain  White. 

Upon  arriving  on  the  wharf  H.  Robinson  warily 
looked  about  him.  Two  men  who  were  evidently 
dcrvants  remained  on  board  the  yacht.  An  old  lady, 
who  was  Miss  Gastonguay,  the  chief  of  police,  and  a 
pale  youth  known  in  criminal  circles  as  Sideboard 
Charlie  stood  on  the  boat-house  veranda. 


■H 


A  BRANCH  CUT  OFF. 


393 


This  latter  had  been  a  favourite  and  companion  of 
the  noted  bank  breaker.  He  was  not  wanted  now  on 
any  "  count "  of  his  own,  and  the  detective  did  not 
concern  himself  about  him. 

But  where  was  his  prey,  —  the  lion  of  the  chase  ? 

Captain  White  pointed  to  the  yacht.  A  motionless 
figure  wrapped  in  a  cloak  lay  on  a  bench. 

H.  Robinson  suspected  a  trap.  It  would  not  be 
like  the  matchless  dissembier  to  fall  into  his  arms. 
"  You  come  with  me,"  he  said  to  the  chief. 

The  latter  stolidly  accompanied  him.  "  There  is 
your  man,"  he  muttered. 

The  lion  was  asleep.  H.  Robinson  could  wake 
him,  and  he  laid  a  hand  on  the  stiff  shoulder,  and 
drew  aside  the  fold  of  cloth  from  the  marble 
face. 

Then  he  stepped  back,  his  face  working  stupidly. 
"Dead, —  and  I  am  fooled."  He  had  half  suspected 
this,  and  he  gave  place  to  the  two  young  men  who 
noirelessly  and  swiftly  nlaced  their  iiands  under  the 
dead  man's  body  and  carried  him  on  shore. 

No  one  spoke;  matters  must  have  been  pre- 
arranged, and  in  sullen  silence  the  detective  kept 
up  with  the  party,  who  in  a  body  marched  toward 
the  house. 

To  his  surprise  they  did  not  enter  it  but  passed 
through  a  garden  toward  a  hillside.  Here  was  a 
small  cemetery.     They  entered  the  gate,  their  bur- 


394 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


den  was  deposited  on  the  grass,  then  the  different 
members  of  the  party  scattered. 

The  detective  watched  the  austere  old  lady  who 
remained  by  the  dead  body.  He  had  made  it  his 
business  to  inquire  into  her  peculiarities,  and  it  did 
not  altogether  surprise  him  that  she  should  take  an 
interest  in  a  criminal.  But  would  she  allow  him  to 
be  buried  in  her  private  cemetery } 

An  eerie  shiver  ran  up  and  down  his  backbone. 
He  did  not  like  this  midnight  work.  The  solemn 
quietness,  the  air  of  respectability  and  yet  of 
secrecy  about  this  last  act  of  a  criminal  career 
offended  him  and  grated  against  his  ofBcial  sense  of 
propriety. 

He  approached  Captain  White,  who  had  just  re- 
appeared, carrying  a  spade  in  his  hand.  "  You  lay 
out  to  bury  this  man  ? " 

«  Yes." 

«*  I  protest  —  "  the  detective  was  just  beginning 
when  Captain  White  pitt  up  his  hand. 

"  Hush  up ;  wait  a  bit." 

Several  lanterns  stood  about  on  the  grass,  and 
some  one  had  hung  the  largest  of  them  on  tie  pro- 
jecting toe  of  Louis  Gastonguay's  granite  boot.  By 
the  reddish  yellow  glare  of  this  light  on  the  monu- 
ment, H.  Robinson  saw  a  white  figu*'e  approaching. 
The  white  figure  was  supported  by  a  dark  one. 
Ah,  here  was  the  daughter.     She  certainly  was  no 


A  BRANCH  CUT  OFF. 


395 


shady  character,  and  his  eye  ran  critically  over  her 
snowy  figure. 

But  what  distress !  —  he  had  never  seen  anything 
like  it,  and  a  secre.  thrill  pervaded  him.  That  little 
beauty  had  lost  her  father.  Bank  robber  or  no  bank 
robber,  he  must  have  been  all  the  world  to  her. 
What  woula  -.  ,  say  if  she  knew  he  had  been  the 
one  to  run  him  down }  and  he  uneasily  stepped  behind 
one  of  the  Scotchmen  from  the  yacht. 

He  had  witnessed  some  pretty  trying  scenes,  but 
he  had  never  seen  anything  like  this.  The  Longlegs 
with  her  was  her  husband.  Reverently  he  escorted 
her  to  the  dead  body  and  put  a  supporting  arm 
around  her  as  she  fell  on  her  knees. 

This  was  awful,  and  the  detective  turned  away. 
Then,  compelled  by  the  same  fascination,  he  looked 
again.  So  young  to  suffer.  Poo**  slip  of  a  girl,  — 
not  more  than  half  as  old  as  his  wife.  Evidently 
she  had  been  told  not  to  shriek  or  cry  out.  Her 
fingers  were  locked  in  a  painful  grasp,  her  pitiful 
moans  were  barely  audible.  Frantically  and  re- 
peatedly she  kissed  the  cold  face,  and  her  tearless 
eyes  sought  her  husband's  in  dumb  entreaty. 

Why  had  it  happened  ?  Who  was  to  blame } 
Why  had  she  not  been  with  him  ?  Her  father  — 
oh,  her  father !  and  the  detective,  though  not  a  man 
given  to  much  emotion,  involuntarily  voiced  her 
mute  and  heart-broken  pleadings. 


396 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  Do  you  still  protest  ? "  asked  a  grim  voice  in  his 
ear. 

"  Confound  you,  no/'  he  said,  snappishly,  to  Cap- 
tain White. 

One  of  the  Scotchmen  quickly  ran  his  spade  over 
a  scant  grass  plot  designated  by  Miss  Gastonguay. 
When  the  first  earth  was  turned  up,  the  girl  sprang 
to  her  feet  with  an  agonised  cry,  "Must  I  forgive 
them  .?    Justin,  I  cannot." 

H.  Robinson  watched  her  husband  trying  to  com- 
fort her,  then  crossing  his  hands  behind  his  back 
he  went  for  a  short  turn  around  the  outride  of  the 
cemetery.  Forgive  whom.?  The  man  who  had 
hunted  her  father  to  death.  Poor  thing,  —  she  did 
not  know  what  a  villain  he  had  been.  Women  were 
unreasonable.  Well,  the  same  end  came  to  all.  Some 
day  some  one  would  be  digging  a  grave  for  him,  and 
he  uneasily  surveyed  his  ample  proportions.  He 
had  had  some  queer  pains  about  his  heart  lately. 
Bah !  what  was  the  good  of  living  anyway  ?  What 
was  the  good  of  anything  ?  Why  had  he  been  fol- 
lowing up  this  affair  at  such  a  break-neck  pace? 
For  money,  celebrity, — a  paragraph  in  the  news- 
papers. 

H'^re  in  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  night,  and 
under  the  melancholy  mystery  of  the  stars,  the  chase 
seemed  fruitless,  the  rewards  worthless.  He  would 
go  home  to  his  wife.     Let  the  poor  devil  sleep  in 


» 


A   BRANCH  CUT  OFF, 


peace.  Why  didn't  they  take  that  girl  away?  and 
be  peered  through  the  iron  railing  at  ner. 

He  was  quite  near  her  now.  "I  forgive,  I  for- 
give— "  he  heard  her  articulate.  "Dear  father, 
they  did  not  mean  to  make  you  suffer/' 

The  tearlessness  of  her  grief  was  over.  Her 
whole  frame  was  shaken  by  violent  weeping.  Soon 
she  would  sob  hard  enough  to  tear  her  in  two.  He 
had  seen  women  in  crying  spells  before. 

"  I  guess  I'll  go,"  he  muttered,  and  pulling  out  his 
watch  he  entered  the  cemetery  and  approached  one 
of  the  lanterns. 

The  grave  was  nearly  ready.  Captain  White,  the 
two  Scotchmen,  and  the  pale  young  man  worked  by 
turns,  and  the  soft  earth  of  the  hillside  was  easy  to 
move. 

Why  didn't  they  take  that  girl  away }  and  in  ner- 
vous irritability  he  was  just  turning  on  his  heel  when 
the  austere  old  lady  spoke  in  his  ear.  "Wait  —  I 
wish  to  speak  to  you." 

He  shrugged  his  wide  shoulders.  He  guessed  he 
could  stand  it  if  women  could,  and  he  again  went 
outside  the  iron  railing  and  took  his  place  where  lio 
sickly  gleam  from  the  lanterns  played  over  the  moist 
grass. 

When  the  men  went  to  take  her  father  from  her, 
the  girl's  sobs  died  away.  With  Tiarvellous  com- 
posure, she  kissed  his  face  for  the  last  time.     "  So 


398 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


thin,  so  pitifully  thin,"  the  detective  heard  her  mur- 
mur. "You  will  rest  now,  my  darling.  Good-bye, 
good-bye,"  and  she  crossed  his  hands  and  folded 
them  on  his  breast,  then  unwinding  the  silken  sash 
from  her  waist  she  wrapped  it  tenderly  around  his 
head. 

A  knot  formed  in  the  detective's  throat.  And 
now  the  old  lady  was  going  at  it,  too.  She  did  not 
do  the  affectionate  like  the  girl,  but  she  took  a  rug 
that  some  one  had  brought  her  from  the  house  and 
folded  it  all  around  the  dead  man's  body.  There 
was  no  t  me  to  have  a  coffin  made.  They  must  do 
the  best  they  could.  The  rug  was  a  costly  one. 
The  detective  could  see  the  gold  threads  shining 
in  it.  Foreign  work  p^-obably.  She  was  burying  up 
a  poor  man's  salary  with  that  rogue. 

Stay,  —  they  were  going  to  have  a  burial  service. 
The  girl's  last  lingering  caress  was  over.  She  had 
fallen  on  her  knees  on  the  soft  earth,  and  was  look- 
ing down  into  the  yawning  cavity.  The  men  stood 
around  with  uncovered  heads,  while  her  husband 
repeated  from  memory  portions  of  the  burial 
service. 

It  was  a  long  time  since  he  had  been  to  a  funeral, 
—  not  since  his  old  father  died  up  in  Aroostook 
County,  and  the  detective  drew  the  back  of  his  hand 
across  his  eyes  as  he  listened  to  the  words  spoken  in 
a  choking  voice. 


A  BRANCH  CUT  OFF. 


399 


"  *  If  a  tree  fall  toward  the  south  or  toward  the 
north,  in  the  place  where  the  tree  falleth  there  it 
shall  be. 

"  *  There  is  hope  of  a  tree  if  it  be  cut  down,  that  it 
shall  sprout  again,  and  that  the  tender  branch 
thereof  will  not  cease.  .  .  .  Man's  days  are  as  grass, 
as  a  flower  of  the  field  so  he  flourisheth.  ...  I  am 
the  Resurrection  and  the  Life.  He  that  believeth 
on  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live.  I 
know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  though  worips 
destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see 
God '  —  " 

The  speaker's  words  ceased  suddenly.  His  young 
wife  had  fallen  fainting  at  his  feet,  and  hurriedly 
lifting  her  in  his  arms  he  started  toward  the  house. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  little  group  stood  silently 
beside  the  heaped-up  grave.  The  old  lady  was  going 
to  speak  now.  ,^ 

"  Friends,"  she  said,  sadly  and  harshly,  "  we  sep- 
arate now.  I  thank  you  all.  Captain  White  will 
speak  to  you  on  my  behalf.  One  favour  I  have  to 
request  of  you  six  men.  Let  this  night's  occurrence 
rest  in  oblivion.  For  the  sake  of  that  heart-broken 
girl  I  ask  you.  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  respect  . 
my  request.  Good-night  and  good-bye.  There  are 
some  of  you  I  shall  never  see  again.  Lead  honour- 
able lives ;  there  is  no  happiness  in  any  other." 

She  went  from  one  to  another  with  a  stem,  im- 


1400 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


movable  face,  shaking  hands  in  a  manner  that  made 
the  detective's  flesh  crawl  nervously.  Was  she,  too, 
going  to  give  up  the  ghost  ? 

"  McTavish  and  Stevens,"  whispered  Captain  White 
to  the  two  men  from  the  yacht,  "call  on  me  in  a 
day  or  two.  There  are  pretty  considerable  sums  to 
be  placed  to  your  credit  in  the  bank.  Look  here 
you,  H.  Robinson,"  and  he  approached  the  detective, 
"  what  are  your  sentiments  now } " 

They  were  all  struggling  toward  the  house,  with 
the  addition  to  the  party  oi  a  ghostly  white  pony, 
who  thrust  his  nose  over  Captain  White's  arm. 

"  My  sentiments  are  to  get  to  bed,"  said  H.  Rob- 
inson, peevishly. 

"You  are  afraid  you'll  do  something  unbusiness- 
like while  you  are  feeling  soft,"  said  Captain  White, 
"but  let  me  ask  you  a  question.  What  do  you 
expect  to  get  out  of  this  thing  now.?" 

"  Satisfaction,  if  I  like,"  snapped  his  companion. 

"  Satisfaction,  yes,  —  you  can  blurt  out  what  Mrs. 
Mercer's  father  was.  What  follows.?  Remarks  to 
the  effect  that  you  were  a  hound  and  your  hare 
escaped  you.  What  then.?  You  think  you  have 
♦  disgraced  a  family,  but  Justin  Mercer  will  jump  him- 
self and  his  wife  to  some  place  across  the  world  so 
quick  that  you  couldn't  see  *em  go." 

"  Don't  she  suspect  anything  ? " 

"Not  a  syllable.     Couldn't  a  man  that  galled  a 


\ 


A  BRANCH  CUT  OFF. 


401 


man  like  you  easUy  fool  a  girl  ?  Cell  her  up  as  she 
knelt  there  just  now.  Think  that  some  day  she  may 
have  children  of  her  own.  What  kind  of  satisfac- 
tion would  it  give  you  to  think  you'd  made  that 
pretty  head  hang  down  in  shame  ? " 

The  Jetective  grunted  something  unintelligible. 

"Miss  Gastonguay  approves  of  you  so  far,  but 
she's  mighty  clever,  and  she  is  figuring  this  whole 
thing  out.  I  guess  from  something  she  let  slip  she 
suspects  her  niece.  Anyway,  she  thinks  you  have 
done  your  duty,  but  if  you'll  let  everything  slide  and 
go  home  quietly,  like  a  good  boy,  I'm  instructed  to 
give  you  a  little  sweetener,  a  check  for  — "  and  he 
murmured  the  rest  of  his  sentence  in  his  companion's 
ear. 

The  sum  mentioned  in  one  instant  consoled  H. 
Robinson  for  loss  of  sleep,  loss  of  celebrity,  loss  of 
temper,  and  all  other  losses.  He  had  .been  soaring 
above  things  mercenary  during  the  last  few  hours, 
but  now  he  felt  himself  speedily  drawn  back  to  them. 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  "but  one  question,  —  did  he 
suicide } " 

"  No,  he  did  not." 

"  What  was  he  going  to  be  fool  enough  to  come 
back  here  for  ?  I  guess  he  knew  I  was  on  his  track." 

"He  wasn't  coming, — he  was  going  to  be 
brought." 

"  Oh !  that's  why  you  were  so  plumb  sure." 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


**  What  made  you  so  plumb  sure  he  would  come 
here  ? " 

«*  I've  heard  how  he  was  set  on  his  daughter,  and 
a  sick  man  like  a  sick  animal  runs  for  his  home." 

«  His  home  ?  " 

"  By  home,  I  mean  family.  He  came  of  a  swell 
lot  according  to  himself;  but  those  fellows  always 
like  to  strut.     I  guess  he  was  a  Westerner." 

"  I  guess  so.  Look  here,  I'll  tell  you  how  he  died. 
His  pig-iron  will  kept  him  up  till  he  got  here ;  when 
he  heard  you  were  coming  it  nearly  finished  him. 
But  he  was  a  cool  one.  He  managed  to  get  on  the 
yacht ;  then  he  told  me  the  doctors  said,  if  he  had 
an  attack  like  the  one  he'd  just  had,  he  could 
only  last  a  few  hours  after  it.  When  all  was  over 
he  would  get  Miss  Gastonguay  to  chuck  him  in  the 
sea.  I  was  to  stay  and  keep  you  at  bay.  He  held 
on  till  they  got  abreast  of  Dove  Harbour,  then,  — 
well,  I  don't  know  what  happened.  Miss  Gaston- 
guay  was  alone  with  him.  She's  a  good  lot,  —  I 
knew  she'd  bring  him  back  to  bury  him." 

"That  she  i^:, '  said  the  detective,  cheerfully. 
"You  needn't  bother  with  any  more  explanations. 
So  long,"  and  he  stepped  ahead  in  order  to  give  his 
companion  a  chance  with  the  chief  of  police. 

"Chief,"  said  Captain  White,  diplomatically,  "you 
can't  explain  everything  on  this  globe,  can  you  ?  " 

"  I  guess  not." 


A   BRANCH  CUT  OFF. 


403 


"  If  a  rich  old  lady  chooses  to  bury  nobody  knows 
who  in  her  cemetery,  it's  just  as  well  to  have  nothing 
said  ? " 

"  I'll  agree  to  that." 

"  You've  got  a  wife  ? " 

"  I'm  pretty  sure  of  that." 

"  You  don't  tell  her  all  your  secrets  ? " 

"  Couldn't  very  well." 

"Then  keep  on  not  telling  her.  Don't  drop* a 
hint  that  I'm  going  to  call  to-morrow  at  eleven  about 
this  business  of  to-night,  and,  by  the  way,  help  that 
tired  butter-tub  roll  himself  down  to  the  hotel." 

"All  right,"  and  Chief  Gordon  hastened  to  over- 
take the  stranger. 

The  pale  youth  plodding  seriously  through  the 
darkness  did  not  avert  his  face  from  the  lantern 
held  up  to  scrutinise  it. 

*' You've  followed  that  man,"  said  Captain  White. 
"  You've  been  faithful  to  him.  What  are  you  going 
to  do  now } " 

The  young  man's  labouring  heavy  step  did  not 
become  more  light,  but  his  face  became  illumined 
by  a  cynical  gleam.  "I'm  not  at  the  end  of  my 
resources." 

"What's  your  name?"  asked  Captain  White 
abruptly. 

"  I'd  be  a  fool  to  tell  you." 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Captain  Whatc^  shifting  his 


404 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


lantern  from  one  hand  to  the  other,  and  giving  him 
a  resounding  slap  on  the  back.  "  Charlie  White  — 
own  cousin  to  ine,  Micah  White.  Just  from  his  home 
in  the  West  —  sad  on  account  of  his  guardian's  death. 
Is  it  a  bargain,  young  man  ? " 

The  criminal  stopped  short,     "  Do  you  mean  it .?  " 

"Am  I  in  a  humour  for  jokes  with  that  behind 
me  ? "  and  Captain  White  pointed  a  thumb  over  his 
shoulder.  "Isn't  my  blood  going  creepy,  crawly 
through  my  veins }  Come  on,  young  man.  Behind 
you  is  death,  damnation,  —  a  cursed  life.  Before 
you  is  honesty,  a  chance  to  win  men's  approval,  a 
loophole  to  enter  kingdom  come." 

The  young  man  paced  slowly  on.  The  weird  cry 
of  a  bird  disturbed  by  those  in  front  pierced  the 
night.  Something  rooted  in  his  nature  called  as 
shrilly  for  the  troubled  mystery  and  excitement  of 
his  city  life.  He  hated  the  quiet,  the  unintoxicating 
calm  of  such  a  peaceful  place  as  this,  and  yet  —  and 
yet — suppose  he  plunged  again  into  his  criminal 
career.  He  would  go  down,  down  to  what  ?  To  a 
hunted  life,  to  a  dishonoured  grave. 

"  I'll  try  it,"  he  said,  at  last,  and  without  enthu- 
siasm.     "  Have  I  to  thank  the  old  lady  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Captain  White,  briefly,  and  seizing 
him  by  the  arm  as  if  fearful  that  a  delay  might 
change  his  resolution,  he  fairly  ran  him  through  the 
dark  streets  to  the  parsonage. 


vm> 


HMMWNMMMM 


A   BRANCH  CUT  OFF. 


40s 


The  young  criminal  forbore  to  ask  a  question 
even  after  a  long  delay  at  the  door.  Captain  White 
rang  the  bell  persistently  and  loudly,  and  at  last  an 
upper  window  was  opened.     "  Who's  there  ? " 

«  Micah  White." 

"  Oh,  I'll  be  right  down,"  and  in  a  few  minutes 
Mrs.  Negus,  smiling,  and  shading  a  candle  in  her 
hand,  appeared  in  nondescript  costume. 

"A  new  boarder  for  you,"  ejaculated  Captain 
White,  pushing  the  young  man  in.  "  Own  cousin  of 
mine  —  used  up  from  a  journey — going  to  be  assistant 
superintendent  in  the  canneries,  to  fill  the  place  Pottses 
have  long  been  clamouring  to  fill,  and  chat  I  out  of 
obstinacy  wouldn't.  A  good  clean  boy,  but  delicate. 
Coddle  him  a  bit,  let  the  children  play  with  him. 
Name,  Charles  White." 

The  new  Charles  White  bit  his  lip,  and  in  a  tired 
fashion  shook  hands  with  the  beaming  Mrs.  Negus. 

"  I'm  real  glad  to  get  a  boarder,"  she  assured  him. 
"I've  been  lonely  since  my  minister  left.  Here's 
his  room,"  and  conducting  him  up-stairs,  she  opened 
the  door  of  a  nestlike  apartment  with  pink  roses  on 
the  wall,  and  mild-faced  china  figures  of  lambs  and 
dogs  on  the  mantel. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

THE    PURITANS   HAVE   TRIUMPHED  ! 


The  early  afternoon  sun  was  streaming  in  the 
library  wndows.  Miss  Gastonguay's  carved  rhair 
was  placed  in  the  full  light  of  its  rays.  Hit  ^.a/ 
head  and  velvet  jacket  were  resplendent,  and  her 
wrinkled  face  glowed  with  an  unearthly  lustre. 

She  was  making  her  will.  Captain  Veevers  sat  at 
the  big  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  He  was 
reserved  and  taciturn  as  usual,  yet  he  glanced  at  her 
occasionally  with  some  anxiety.  He  had  deep  re- 
spect for  her  as  an  old  friend  and  substantial  patron, 
and  he  saw  that  he  was  going  to  lose  her. 

She  dictated  in  a  firm  and  collected  voice,  "  First, 
I  revoke  all  wills  and  codicils  by  me  heretofore 
made." 

He  repeated  the  words  after  her,  and  a  num'^^er  of 
bequests  to  servants  and  friends  followed.  Captain 
Veevers  was  surprised  at  "one  of  them,  until  he 
came  to  one  in  which  the  sum  of  twenty  thousand 
dollars  was  ordereo  to  be  paid  to  Captain  Micah 
White. 


THE  PURITANS  HAVE    TRIUMPHED.        407 

However,  he  took  pains  not  to  exhibit  his  sur- 
prise. The  captain  had  probably  been  executing 
some  commission  for  Miss  Gastcnguay. 

But  a  greater  surprise  was  to  follow.  "  Now  that 
T  am  about  to  die,"  continued  Miss  Gastonguay, 
"  and,  wishing  to  gratify  my  earnest  vdsh  that  some 
of  my  own  townspeople  may  reside  under  my  roof,  and 
raise  up  a  Christian  family  to  bless  the  State,  I  give 
and  bequeath  to  my  friend  Justin  Mercer  my  house, 
furniture,  and  estate  of  French  Cross,  together  with 
the  sum  of  —  "  and  she  paused,  while  the  scratching 
of  Captain  Veevers's  pen  ceased. 

She  was  making  a  calculation  on  a  scrap  of  paper 
she  held  in  her  hand,  and  when  she  finished,  he, 
to  his  astonishment,  was  diiected  to  name  an  amount 
representing  one-half  the  value  of  her  entire  property. 

Seli-possessed  as  he  was,  he  could  not  fiuppress 
a  slight  sneer. 

Her  deep  set  eyes  caught  it.  "  What  is  it  ? " 
she  asked,  gently.  "You  would  like  to  make  an 
observation  .^ " 

His  concentrated  malice  and  implacability  found 
expression  in  a  mui  mured  sentence,  "  So  you  too 
have  found  her  out  ? " 

"  Who  —  Chelda  ? " 
•«Ye»." 

She  v/aved  her  pencil  at  him  with  a  melancholy 
smile,   and    continued  dictating,    "To   my   beloved 


4o8 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


niece,  Chelda  Gertrude  Gastonguay,  who  has  been 
my  companion  and  solace  since  her  childhood,  I  give 
and  bequeath  the  remainder  and  residue  of  my  real 
and  personal  estate,  and  direct  and  authorise  my 
executors  to  collect  the  income  derived  therefrom, 
and  pay  said  income  in  quarter-yearly  payments  to 
said  Chelda  Gertrude  Gastonguay  during  her  natural 
life.  And  it  is  further  my  will,  and  I  do  hereby 
authorise  and  empower  the  said  Chelda  Gertrude 
Gastonfc,uay  by  her  last  will  and  testament  duly 
executed  by  he: ,  according  to  the  laws  of  this  State, 
to  bequeath,  limit,  and  appoint  the  said  rest  and 
residue  of  my  estate  in  any  way  and  for  such 
objects  as  she  may  deem  best." 

Here  she  broke  off.  "Young  man,"  she  said, 
abruptly,  "  come  with  me." 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  and  extended  a  hand  to 
Captain  Veevers,  who  left  the  table,  and  accompanied 
her  into  the  adjoining  music-room. 

She  pointed  to  a  bevelled  glass  panel.  "  Look  in 
there,  will  you  ? " 

He  looked  in,  and  saw  his  sallow  face  disfiguud 
by  an  expression  of  inexorable  contempt. 

"It  grieves  me,"  she  said,  simply.  "You  are 
angry  with  my  niece." 

"Not  angry,  —  I  despise  her.  I  despise  my- 
self," he  continued,  in  a  low  voice,  "  for  letting  you 
know." 


THE  PURITANS  HAVE    TRIUMPHED. 


409 


His  head  hung  down,  ne  would  fain  have  covered 
his  wound,  but  it  was  too  new,  too  painful. 

"  She  has  had  you  dangling  about  her  for  years," 
said  Miss  Gastonguay.  "She  has  deceived  you, — 
hurt  your  feelings." 

"She  has  made  a  fool  of  me,"  he  articulated. 
"  When  I  marry,  —  if  I  marry,  —  I  shall  look  fir  a 
stupid  woman.     I  am  tired  of  clever  ones." 

"This  is  not  love,"  continued  Miss  Gastonguay, 
"  it  is  self-esteem.  Let  me  speak  to  you  as  if  you 
were  my  son.  I  like  you  —  I  pity  you.  Thank 
Heaven  that  Chelda  does  discard  you.  Such  a  match 
would  have  been  most  unsuitable.  Pay  court  to 
some  gentle  girl  like  Aurelia  Sinclair,  who  will  love 
and  admire  you.  Chelda  is,  as  you  say,  insincere 
and  jhe  loves  another  man.  Dear  young  man,"  and 
she  suddenly  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  "  let  me 
say  a  last  word  to  you.  I  am  soon  to  shake  off  this 
wvVid  and  its  troubles.  Already  I  feel  myself  in  it 
but  not  of  it.  Nothing  burdens  me,  nothing  vexes 
me.  I  have  had  worries  and  trials.  They  have  all 
rolled  from  me.  With  unspeakable  longing  I  look 
forward  to  another  existence.  Let  me  have  one 
more  consolation  before  I  depart.  Let  me  plant 
a  little  seed  of  forgiveness  in  your  heart." 

Her  face  was  transfigured.  With  something  like 
awe  the  young  man  felt  his  own  face  clearing,  and 
the  cloud  lifting  from  his  mind. 


4IO 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  Forgive  her,  forgive  her,"  she  murmured,  "  as 
you  wish  to  be  forgiven.  It  is  the  grea^,  secret  of 
life.  No  happiness  without  forgiveness.  Alas !  we 
are  none  of  us  perfect,  but  resentment  is  so  trivial, 
so  petty." 

Captain  Veevers  moved  back  into  the  library. 
He  was  strangely  uncomfortable.  Miss  Gaston- 
guay's  mind  seemed  wandering.  "Shall  we  finish 
our  business  .^ "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  and  like  one  in  a  dream,  and  yet  with 
entire  composure,  she  continued  the  work  in  hand, 
spoke  a  few  words  to  the  witnesses  called  in,  and 
then  after  signing  the  will,  and  seeing  it  laid  away  in 
a  safe  place,  rang  the  bell  and  requested  her  niece's 
presence. 

"Chelda,  my  dear,"  she  said,  softly,  "you  have 
something  to  say  to  this  young  man." 

The  feverish  flush  on  the  young  lady's  face  deep- 
ened. Her  head  was  not  held  as  high  as  formerly 
and  her  manner  had  become  nervous  and  startled. 

"  Captain  Veevers,"  she  said,  moving  toward  him 
in  an  automaton-like  fashion,  but  keeping  her  eyes 
fixed  on  her  aunt,  "  I  wounded  your  feelings  in  an 
interview  you  sought  last  week.  I  deeply  regret 
it." 

"  She  wishes  to  curry  favour  with  her  aunt,"  the 
young  man  sneeringly  reflected.  Aloud  he  said, 
"The  matter  had  better  be  left  buried." 


THE  PURITANS  HAVE   TRIUMPHED.        41 1 

"  If  you  knew  how  I  have  suffered ! "  said  Chelda, 
with  agitation.     "  How  I  have  suffered !  " 

A  quick  gleam  sprang  to  his  eyes..  Had  she 
repented.?  If  so,  though  he  was  very  angry,  he 
might  possibly  forgive. 

She  retreated  from  him,  and  drawing  up  her 
slender  figure  against  the  dark  panelling  of  the 
wall,  hastily  ejaculated  a  few  sentences  divided 
between  him  and  her  mildly  observing  aunt. 

"  I  did  not  think  when  I  began  —  I  only  sought 
my  own  gratification.  Then  —  then  it  was  too  late. 
The  agonies  of  fear,  of  apprehension,  of  mortification, 
that  I  have  undergone,  I  cannot  describe.  If  you 
knew,  you  would  not  scon  but  pity  me.  I  have  had 
no  sleep  —  my  food  is  like  ashes.  You  think  you 
suffer,'*  and  she  bestowed  a  glance  of  mingled  fear 
and  aversion  on  the  man,  "you  know  nothing  of  it, 
—  a  little  wounded  vanity,  that  is  all.  I  cannot 
describe  what  I  endure  —  I  cannot  describe  it,"  and 
she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  "Such  days  of 
misery  —  such  nights  of  pain  I " 

Her  agitation  was  intense  —  almost  too  intense  for 
the  occasion.  Captain  Veevers  looked  at  Miss  Gas- 
tonguay,  around  whose  lips  a  curious  tremor  was 
stealing.  There  was  something  tragic  and  over- 
wrought in  her  niece's  despair,  —  almost  as  if  she 
were  speaking  of  one  thing  and  thinking  of 
aoother. 


i 


412 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


lit 


M:ss  Gastonguay  waved  him  to  depart.  With  a 
last  glance  at  Chelda,  he  obeyed  her.  That  woman's 
sentiment  was  dead  and  buried.  She  only  felt  re- 
morse. She  had  flirted  with  the  clergyman;  she 
had  been  playing  with  him.  Both  had  found  her  out. 
His  heart  felt  lighter.  She  was  too  much  like  a 
woman  with  a  past.  Possibly  he  had  been  favoured  in 
being  delivered  from  her. 

"  Chelda,"  said  Miss  Gastonguay,  softly,  "  have  you 
anything  to  tell  me .? " 

"  No,  no,"  said  her  niece,  in  an  unhappy,  terrified 
voice,  "nothing,  nothmg.  I  have  behaved  badly  to 
Captain  Veevers,  —  I  am  ashamed." 

"I  am  going  to  take  a  walk  in  the  wood,"  said 
Miss  Gastonguay,  in  the  same  grave,  kind  way. 
"Possibly  w\en  I  come  back  you  will  talk  freely 
to  me." 

"  Talk  freely  —  "  stammered  her  niece,  raising  her 
head,  but  her  aunt  was  already  gone.  She  hurried 
to  the  window.  «  Oh,  if  I  dared  — if  I  dared !  She 
might  forgive  me.  She  is  so  changed  now,  but  I  can- 
not, I  cannot,"  and  hiding  her  face  in  the  back  of 
a  chair  she  writhed  in  an  agony  of  doubt  and  contri- 
tion. If  I  were  a  child  or  a  girl,  but  I  am  a  woman. 
I  should  have  known  better.  If  I  had  only  thought 
—  if  I  had  only  thought ! " 

Miss  Gastonguay  went  first  to  the  cemetery.  The 
newly  made  grave  could  not  be  seen.     Every  mom- 


L, 


THE  PURITANS  HAVE    TRIUMPHED. 


413 


ing,  long  before  the  household  was  astir,  Chelda  left 
her  bed,  and  her  aunt  sometimes  secretly  watched 
her  as  she  went  toiling  from  grave  to  green- 
house, her  delicate  hands  bearing  unaccustomed 
burdens.  This  grave  was  her  special  charge,  the 
one  spot  at  French  Cross  to  be  tenderly  cared 
for  and  unceasingly  beautified,  and  she  ruthlessly 
stripped  the  most  costly  exotics  and  most  precious 
of  house  flowers  of  blossom  and  leaf. 

To  Derrice,  lying  pale  and  languid  ever  since  the 
night  that  made  her  an  orphan.  Miss  Gastonguay 
daily  bore  a  description  of  Chelda's  latest  designs  in 
ornamentation.  One  day  it  was  a  huge  white  cross 
outlined  in  a  bank  of  ferns ;  another,  a  white  heart 
covered  the  rooting  sod  and  gaping  earth-seams. 

To-day  there  was  a  carpet  of  variegated  bloom 
scenting  the  air  for  yards  around  with  a  delicious 
perfume.  With  dry  eyes,  but  with  the  same  un- 
earthly brightness  of  face,  Miss  Gastonguay  stooped 
and  passed  her  hand  caressingly  over  a  pillow  of 
flowers  laid  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  then  talking 
softly  to  herself  she  proceeded  to  the  wood. 

She  had  no  pain,  no  distress.  Soon  —  perhaps  in 
the  night,  perhaps  next  day  —  would  come  the  terri- 
ble anguish  in  her  chest,  the  wild  struggle  for  breath. 
She  must  not  go  far  from  the  house,  she  would  halt 
by  "the  old  playground  where  she  had  romped  with 
her  little  brother,  and  barely  entering  the  wood  she 


414 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


I 


I! 


sat  down  in  the  shade  of  some  underbrush  beside  the 
pond. 

How  fair  was  this  world !  How  transcendent  must 
be  the  beauty  of  the  other  world  to  eclipse  this! 
She  leaned  back  against  a  tree  and  mused  on  deep 
and  unutterable  things  until  there  was  a  soft  footfall 
beside  her. 

"  Dear  pony,"  she  said,  and,  with  a  new  fondness 
added  to  her  old  fondness  for  all  created  things,  she 
stroked  the  head  dropped  caressingly  before  her. 

After  a  time  she  started  to  get  up,  but  could  not 
do  so. 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  quietly,  and  she  lay  back  against 
the  tree. 

A  carpenter  going  home  with  his  tools  a  few 
minutes  later  had  occasion  to  pass  the  pond.  He 
•touched  his  hat  when  he  saw  her,  and  was  greeted 
calmly  and  called  to  her  side.  "  Can  you  give  me  a 
pencil  and  a  piece  of  paper,  Mr.  Munro,  and  if  you 
are  not  in  a  hurry  would  you  be  kind  enough  to  go 
and  sit  yonder  for  a  short  time }  If  I  do  not  speak 
at  the  end  of  ten  minutes  come  to  me.  I  want  to 
send  a  message  to  my  niece,  and  shall  be  obliged  if 
you  will  let  e  it  at  the  door  as  you  go  by." 

The  man  cheerfully  complied  with  her  request. 
In  common  with  the  whole  town,  he  had  heard  that 
she  was  not  likely  to  live  long,  but  she  looked  better 
to-day  than  he  had  ever  seen  her  before.     Her  eye 


THE  PURITANS  HAVE   TRIUMPHED. 


415 


was  bright,  —  almost  triumphant.  Perhaps  she  had 
conquered  her  complaint. 

Miss  Gastonguay  fingered  the  broad-pointed 
pencil.  "Only  ten  minutes,  perhaps  less.  I  am 
not  mistaken  this  time,  —  let  me  make  haste,"  and, 
laying  the  paper  on  a  flat  stone  beside  her,  she 
wrote  firmly  :  "To  Chelda,  my  beloved  niece.  The 
conversation  will  not  take  place,  but  I  forgive,  fully, 
freely.  May  God  bless  you.  Forget  the  past, — 
forget,  forget.  Look  steadily  forward.  Leave 
French  Cross  and  be  happy.  My  blessing  always,  — 
always.  Never  forget  it.  Nothing  would  change 
it,  nothing  you  could  say  or  do.  No  one  has  told 
me  anything,  but  I  suspected  and  know  the  truth." 

She  stopped  for  a  few  minutes.  The  pain  was 
coming  on.  One  look  she  cast  up  at  the  brave  blue 
of  the  sky,  then  she  went  on,  "  Derrce  Mercer,  my 
dear  friend.  Good-bye,  good-bye.  Keep  clean  your 
sweet  soul.  Train  wisely  all  who  may  come  to  you. 
Do  not  forget  me.  We  shall  meet  again.  Do  not 
lose  heart.     Trust  your  husband  ;  he  will  advise." 

This  time  thr*  pencil  fell  from  her  grasp,  and  an 
acute  spasm  of  pain  contracted  her  features.  She 
pressed  her  hands  to  her  throat,  and  gasped  for 
breath.  When  it  came,  she  seized  the  pencil  and 
wrote,  hurriedly,  "  I  have  off  :;nded  some.  I  pray  all 
to  forgive  me.  In  this  last  hour  I  think  kindly,  so 
kiadly  of  all      Would  that  my  poor  death   could 


4i6 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


bring  happiness  to  all  I  know.  Good-bye,  dear 
townspeople.  On  the  whole,  we  have  lived  happily 
together.  I  beg  you,  I  pray  you,  I  beseech  you  to 
meet  me  in  a  better  world.  Would  that  I  could 
comfort  some  sore  hearts  before  I  go. 

"  Chelda,  once  again,  —  do  not  grieve  that  I  am 
alone.  I  thought  to  have  you  with  me  at  the  last, 
but  it  would  have  been  hard  for  you.  It  is  better 
so.      Bury  me  beside  the  wanderer." 

Here  she  broke  off.  The  pencil  rolled  away.  She 
hurriedly  thrust  the  paper  in  the  bosom  of  her  coat, 
and  fell  on  the  ground  in  a  paroxysm  of  pain. 

The  carpenter  sitting  by  the  pond  with  h'^  back 
to  he.'  heard  nothing.  He  had  become  abs  d  in 
a  newspaper  that  he  had  taken  from  his  pocket. 
The  pony  uneasily  touched  the  back  of  her  head 
with  his  nose,  and  when  she  presently  revealed  her 
exhausted  face  he  whinnied  joyfully. 

Her  strength  was  all  gone.  She  was  reclining  on 
the  moss,  her  hands  full  of  violet  leaves  that  she  had 
grasped  in  her  excess  of  pain. 

She  drew  herself  to  her  old  position  against  the 
tree,  and  straightened  her  clothing.  Now  she  felt 
nothing  but  weariness,  deadly  weariness. 

She  drew  one  hand  caressingly  over  the  ground. 
"  Good-bye,  good-bye,"  she  murmured,  "  dear  old  Pine 
Tree  State.  Dirigo  —  motto  of  staunch  hearts.  Pony, 
kiss  me  —  "  and  she  tried  to  upraise  a  feeble  hand 


1 


THE  PURITANS  HAVE   TRIUMPHED.        ^i>j 

She  could  not.  The  pony  rubbed  his  velvet  nose 
over  her  forehead.  "And  this  is  death,  no  black- 
ness of  doubt  and  unbelief.  All  peace.  The  Puri- 
tans have  triumphed  I " 

Her  voice  rose  suddenly.  The  carpenter  heard  it, 
and  threw  down  his  paper.  He  ran  to  her,  then  re- 
traced his  steps  to  the  pond  and  filled  his  hat  with 
water. 

He  was  too  late.  The  old  lady  was  dying.  Her 
glazed  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  sky.  She  could  not 
see  him,  but  he  caught  her  murmured  words,  «I 
believe  in  one  God,  maker  of  heaven  and  earth,  and 
in  Jesus  Christ  his  Son  —  Dear  Lord,  open  the  gates 
of  heaven  and  let  a  tired  old  child  creep  in." 

There  was  a  wistful  pleading  note  in  her  voice. 
The  carpenter,  leaning  over  her,  tried  in  vain  to 
revive  her.  She  fell  back,  and  a  smile  of  unutter- 
able joy  lighted  up  her  face. 


:.'f 


it' 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 


THE   SON    OF  THE   MORNING. 


The  French  Cross  pony  had  always  been  regarded 
as  an  intelligent  and  highly  cultured  animal,  an  amuse- 
ment to  his  mistress  and  the  town  in  general,  and  by 
no  means  a  source  of  melancholy. 

Yet  such  he  became  after  Miss  Gastonguay  had 
been  laid  to  rest  by  the  largest  concourse  of  people 
that  haci  ever  assembled  to  do  honour  to  a  citizen  of 
Rossignol. 

The  pony  did  not  understand  that  his  dear  mis- 
tress lay  under  the  green  mound  in  the  cemetery. 
He  had  seen  her  carried  to  the  house,  he  had  never 
seen  her  come  out,  and  his  mystification  was  com- 
plete. Where  was  she  }  How  had  she  the  heart  to 
elude  him  ?  He  was  getting  thin  and  doleful,  and 
his  tiny  hoofs  ached  at  night  from  his  constant  trot- 
tings  to  and  fro. 

She  was  not  up  among  the  grand  houses  across 
the  river,  for  he  daily  craned  his  neck  over  their 
garden  hedges  until  different  members  of  the  Potts 
family  would  come  to  stroke  him  kindly,  and  mur- 
mur, «'  Poor  pony,  she  is  not  here." 

418 


THE  SON  OF  THE  MORNING. 


419 


Perhaps  then  she  was  among  the  poor  people,  and 
in  joyful  expectation  he  would  hurry  across  the  bridge 
to  the  canning  factories.  Sometimes  the  herring 
boats  would  be  nearing  the  wharves,  and  the  factory 
whistles  would  be  sounding  in  a  deafening  chorus. 
She  used  tq  enjoy  seeing  men,  women,  and  children 
running  to  their  work.  Perhaps  he  would  discover 
her  standing  in  some  doorway,  and  he  earnestly 
scanned  the  passing  faces. 

No,  she  was  never  there,  and  disappointedly  he 
would  drag  himself  through  the  town,  stopping  at 
the  stores,  the  bank,  and  the  office  of  Potts  Brothers, 
where  Mr.  Jonah  Potts  would  wink  his  red  eyes  and 
mutter  that  he  wished  some  one  would  shoot  that 
pony. 

The  whole  town  wished  him  dead,  —  the  little  lean 
animal  with  the  pitiful  eyes  and  weary  manner,  —  yet 
there  was  not  a  man  in  Rossignol  who  would  have 
pointed  a  revolver  at  him. 

Poor  pony !  his  life  was  indeed  a  hard  one,  and  if 
it  had  not  been  for  Chelda,  he  would  have  died. 

This  afternoon  he  had  returned  home  from  a  long 
expedition  into  the  country.  He  had  had  a  sudden 
thought  of  a  distant  farm  on  a  bleak  and  barren  hill- 
side. Alas  !  his  mistress  was  not  there,  and  now 
he  stood  listlessly  regarding  the  sugar-bowl  that 
Chelda  offered  him. 

All  his  life  he  had  longed  for  a  whole  bowl  of 


i 


i 


I  I 


'li!' 


420  DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 

sugar.      Now    he    had    it    and    he    did    not    care 
for  it. 

"Take  it  back  to  the  house,"  said  his  new  mis- 
tress, and  Prosperity  mournfully  obeyed  her. 

Chelda  resumed  her  former  position.  She  always 
sat  here  when  the  weather  was  fine,  —  here  in  her 
aunt's  favourite  summer-house  that  faced  down  the 
river  toward  the  sea.  She  neither  read,  nor  worked, 
nor  saw  visitors.  She  was  always  alone.  Sometimes 
she  smoothed  her  black  dress  and  thoughtfully  turned 
the  mourning  ring  on  her  hand,  while  she  gazed  at 
the  pony,  but  she  rarely  spoke  to  him.  She  only 
caressed  him,  and  he  broken-heart cdly  felt  that  the 
house  was  melancholy,  and  that  with  her  he  was 
losing  interest  in  life. 

On  this  day  there  was  a  kind  of  inexorable  sparkle 
and  brilliancy  on  land  and  sky.  Ever)rthing  shone 
and  glitteired,  and  Chelda's  weary  eyes  were  dazzled, 
yet  she  gazed  steadfastly  and  immovably  out  at  the 
rippling  Bay. 

The  pony  languidly  went  down  to  the  river  to  get 
a  drink,  then,  as  he  came  up  with  the  water  dripping 
from  his  mouth,  he  slightly  moved  his  nostrils  and 
stared  down  the  avenue. 

His  quick  hope  died  within  him.  The  manly  step 
belonged  to  a  man ;  but  it  was  no  stranger  that  was 
swinging  himself  over  the  gravel.  The  handsome 
figure   had   formerly  been  well  known   at   French 


THE  SON  OF  THE  MORNING. 


421 


Cross,  and  only  a  few  months  ago  those  firm  white 
hands  had  gone  all  over  his  trim  white  body  while 
their  owner  examined  his  points. 

The  man  with  the  radiant,  glowing  face  stopped 
suddenly.  Himself  the  embodiment  of  life  and  hope 
and  perfect  happiness,  he  was  inexpressibly  touched 
by  the  pathos  of  the  little  lean  pony. 

If  the  pony  had  chaiiged  so  completely,  what 
would  he  see  when  the  gray-haired  woman  turned  her 
head }  Well,  no  matter,  pony  and  woman  would  soon 
belong  to  him.     He  would  take  them  both  away. 

"  Chelda,"  he  said,  wistfully.     "  Chelda,  Chelda ! " 

She  would  not  turn.  He  caught  only  a  convulsive 
movement  of  her  beautiful  shoulders. 

He  must  see  that  face  bent  so  fixedly  on  the  Bay. 

"  My  darling,"  he  murmured,  stepping  close  beside 
her.  He  si  w  her  now,  thin,  wistful,  pitiably  changed, 
yet  more  attractive  in  lier  haggard  looks  than  she 
had  ever  been  in  her  composure  and  brilliancy. 

In  speechless  compassion  he  approached  her. 

She  did  not  give  him  her  hand.  "  Were  you  not 
told  at  the  house  that  I  preferred  to  see  no  one  ? " 
she  asked,  in  a  dull  voice. 

Yes,  yes ;  but  I  did  not  heed  the  warning." 
And  you  force  your  society  on  me .? "  she  said,  in 
the  same  monotonous  way. 

"Force  it,"  he  repeated,  with  tender  reproach, 
•'Chelda,  have  ycu  forgotten?" 


a 


a 


\  I 


'I 


t 


422 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  I  have  forgotten  nothing,"  and  she  again  turned 
her  face  toward  the  Bay. 

She  was  painfully  weak  and  nervous.  Successive 
waves  of  colour  were  hurrying  over  her  face,  and  her 
breast  rose  and  fell  convulsively. 

"I  also  remember,"  he  said,  masterfully,  "and, 
Chelda,  you  must  listen  to  me." 

He  took  a  seat  near  her  and  laid  his  hat  on  the 
table. 

"  I  shall  speak  frankly,"  he  said,  "to  you,  the  woman 
I  love  and  am  going  to  marry.  No,  do  not  take 
your  hand  from  me.  You  are  mine,  if  ever  a  woman 
belonged  to  a  man.  Let  me  tell  you  what  has  hap- 
pened since  I  left  you." 

She  allowea  him  to  retain  her  hand,  but  kept  her 
face  averted  while  he  gave  her  an  account  of  his 
father's  death  and  his  reconciliation  with  his  family. 

"And,"  he  went  on,  "when  I  once  more  saw  eye 
to  eye  relatives  who  are  dear  to  me,  a  great  happi- 
ness came  over  me.  Duty  and  the  possession  of 
wealth  seemed  to  point  to  a  life  with  these  same 
relatives,  but  something  urged  me  on.  Chelda,  I 
have  at  last  found  peacfe  in  religion,  —  the  true,  not 
the  spurious  religion.  My  heart  became  humbled. 
Not  to  crowded  cities  but  to  the  wilderness  a  call 
came  to  me.  I  have  been  among  the  Indians  in  the 
West.  If  I  could  describe  to  you  the  joy  of  my  life, 
the  ecstasy,  not  of  renunciation,  but  of  participa- 


THE  SON  OF  THE  MORNING. 


423 


tion  in  their  lives !     Only  one  thing  could  draw  me 
from   them.      Do  you  know  what  that  one  thing 

was?" 

She  tried  to  answer  him  in  a  conventional  tone,  to 
assure  him  that  she  did  not  know,  that  she  would 
be  interested  in  hearing,  but  her  breath  came  and 
went  in  fluttering  gasps,  and  she  could  not  speak. 

"  You,  my  darling.  I  have  been  kept  informed 
of  your  movements.  I  know  everything.  At  this 
juncture  you  need  me.  I  am  here,  —  here  tD  take 
you  back  with  me. 

"  My  darling,  my  darling !  "  and  gently  putting  his 
arm  around  her  trembling  form  he  kissed  her  feverish 
cheeks. 

She  drew  away  from  him.  "  I  murdered  my  aunt," 
she  said,  in  a  hollow  voice. 

"  Hush,  hush ! "  and  as  tenderly  as  a  parent  would 
soothe  a  child  he  stroked  her  unbound  masses  of 
hair. 

"  I  do  not  love  you,"  she  stammered. 

"My  poor  girl,"  and  he  folded  her  fluttering 
hands.  "You  are  on  the  brink  of  losmg  your 
reason.  I  wish  to  alarm  you.  They  have  written 
of  your  strange  state  of  mind.  That  your  conscience 
is  awakened  is  my  keenest  delight,  yet  I  would  not 
have  you  gratify  your  sacrificial  instincts.  You  have 
done  wrong,  very  wrong.  You  have  been  contempt- 
ible; my  darling.     I  also  have  been  contemptible. 


424 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS, 


% 


Our  most  merciful  Father  in  heaven  forgives  us. 
Shall  we  spurn  the  joy  of  acceptance?  We  truly 
repent.  Let  us  atone  for  the  past.  We  are  tired  of 
the  world,  —  you  and  I.  Let  us  live  apart  from  it. 
I  claim  you  as  my  wife.  You  are  mine,  and  I  will 
take  you  from  all  former  haunts.  There  is  much 
good  in  the  world  as  well  as  evil,  but  we  have  shown 
ourselves  weak.     Chelda,  will  you  come } " 

She  collected  herself.  "I  beg  that  you  will  go 
away,"  she  said,  rising,  and  trembling  from  head 
to  foot. 

*'  Very  well,"  he  said,  composedly,  reaching  for  his 
hat,  "I  do  not  wish  to  distress  you,  but  you  will 
not  forget  what  I  have  said  ? " 

Forget  it,  —  when  her  eager  eyes  were  devouring 
him,  and  her  fingers  were  clasped  convulsively  to 
prevent  them  from  seeking  the  shelter  of  his  strong, 
inviting  hands.  She  loved  him  more  intensely,  more 
devotedly  than  ever  before,  but  she  was  punishing 
herself  for  her  forwardness  in  days  gone  by.  If  he 
had  said  then  that  he  loved  she  would  have  been 
ready  to  die  with  joy.  Now  —  and  her  passionate 
hungry  eyes  left  his  face  and  went  to  the  cemetery. 

"Let  us  walk  there,"  he  said.  "I  cried  like  a 
child  when  I  heard  that  that  true  heart  had  been 
laid  to  rest.  But,  Chelda,  she  is  not  lost  to  us.  We 
shall  spend  eternity  with  her.  Let  us  do  what  she 
would  have  us  do  if  she  were  here." 


THE  SON  OF  THE  MORNING, 


425 


u 


Go,"  said  Chelda,  wildly,  "go,  I  cannot  endure 
this." 

"  I  will,  but  remember,  darling,  I  am  here  in  the 
town.  I  am  preaching  again  in  the  church.  Send 
for  me  at  any  time.     I  shall  not  leave  you." 

She  threw  herself  down  by  the  table,  shaken  and 
torn  by  hysterical  weeping,  and  with  a  last  embrace 
and  many  a  backward  glance  he  left  her. 

"  Thank  God  I  have  broken  the  ice,  sbe  will  not 
lose  her  reason.     She  is  mine  already." 

That  evening  a  special  service  was  announced  for 
the  Church  of  the  United  Brethren.  Their  former 
pastor  was  to  preach  a  sermon.  There  had  not  yet 
been  a  new  pastor  engaged,  but  there  was  no  hope  of 
getting  again  this  man  who,  after  a  rebaptism  of  /.eal, 
had  been  consecrated  as  a  missionary  to  the  Indians. 

The  people  of  the  town  flocked  to  the  church  to 
hear  what  he  had  to  say.  With  shining  face  the 
ardent  and  still  young  apostle  stood  in  the  pulpit. 
"  Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and  preach  the  gospel  to 
every  creature,"  was  his  theme,  and  he  presented 
to  his  hearers  the  most  sublime  conception  of  duty, 
of  love,  and  of  service  for  others.  Sound,  zealous, 
rooted  in  the  faith,  —  what  a  career  was  spread 
before  him  I  The  old  people  wiped  their  eyes,  and 
the  young  ones  winked  away  surreptitious  tears. 
Surely  life  was  worth  livmg  with  such  an  inspiration 
as  this. 


426 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


"  Christ  who  died  for  us,  who  lives  for  us,  —  our 
great  Pattern  and  Redeemer,  —  take  him  with  you," 
exhorted  the  preacher,  "and  before  all,  above  all, 
with  all,  a  change  of  heart,  —  the  removal  of  the  stony 
heart,  the  planting  of  the  tender  one  alive  with  love 
for  the  brethren,  forgiveness  for  sinners,  pity  for  the 
fallen.  Pity,  pity,  always  pity,  —  unlimited,  full, 
free ! 

"  When  your  pastor,  I  preached  to  you  the  father- 
hood of  God,  the  brotherhood  of  man,  and  the  sub- 
lime morals  of  the  Christ.  But  the  Bible  to  me  was 
not  wholly  a  revelation  from  God.  The  book  of 
Genesis  was  a  revision  of  ancient  myths  adopted  by 
the  superstitious  descendants  of  Abraham.  The 
flood  was  one  of  the  historic  Actions  commonly  afloat 
among  the  nations  of  antiquity.  Abraham's  call  and 
the  supernatural  in  his  life  were  begotten  h;  the 
heated  imagination  of  one  of  his  descendants,  a  true 
Eastern  hero-worshipper.  The  book  of  Jonah  was  a 
myth  produced  by  a  man  of  an  imaginative  tempera- 
ment. Job  was  a  grand  epic,  —  a  poem  of  the 
patriarchical  age.  Solomon's  Song  was  sickly.  Ori- 
ental sentimentality.  Isaiah  was  the  work  of  more 
than  one  author. 

"  The  miracles  of  the  New  Testament  came  from 
the  mythical  lore  of  the  Orient ;  the  Revelation  was 
a  vision  of  a  poet  and  a  religious  fanatic  seen  while 
in  the  reverie  of  a  prolonged  trance.     In  a  wordi  tb€ 


' 


THE  SON  OF  THE  MORNING. 


427 


Scriptures  were  an  admixture  of  truth  and  error,  and 
it  was  the  work  of  the  Higher  Criticism  to  separate 
the  one  from  the  other. 

"But,  thanks  be  to  God,  I  now  know  that  the 
light  that  was  then  in  me  was  darkness ;  my  natural 
man  did  not  discern  the  things  of  the  Spirit ;  they 
were  foolishness  unto  me.  Now  I  am  spiritual,  and 
I  discern  all  things,  yea  the  deep  things  of  God,  — 
the  substitution  of  the  innocent  for  the  guilty,  re- 
generation by  the  Spirit,  the  way  of  life  through 
Christ,  living  in  Christ,  for  Christ,  and  thus  for 
others,  —  the  only  genuine  altruism  in  the  world. 

"  This  is  life  from  the  dead,  —  life  eternal.  Now 
all  the  books  of  the  Bible  are  a  symmetrical  whole, 
—  God's  revealed  will  to  man. 

"  And,  with  our  great  President  Abraham  Lincoln, 
I  accept  all,  —  what  of  it  I  can  by  reason,  and  the 
balance  by  faith. 

"Enlightened  scholars  will  weed  out  any  errors 
that  may  have  crept  in  by  successive  transcriptions, 
and  help  us  in  parts  difficult  of  interpretation;  but 
they  must  leave  to  us  the  grand  old  Bible,  defended 
by  i.s  own  internal  evidence,  and  by  the  evidence 
internal  to  all  in  whom  is  the  new  light,  —  the  new 
life.  To  all  such  '  it  will  be  the  Impregnable  Rock 
of  the  Holy  Scriptures.* 

"Deep  down  in  my  heart,  during  my  pastorate 
among  you,  there  was  a  current  of  fear  lest  I  might 


428 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


be  wrong,  and  this  is  the  reason  why  I  concealed 
my  views  from  the  public.  My  only  confidant  was 
Mr.  Justin  Mercer,  and  may  God  save  him  from  any 
harm  on  account  of  it." 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  he  paused,  but  the  con- 
gregation would  not  go  home.  Were  they  to  have 
one  of  the  old-fashioned,  much-sneered-at  revivals, 
—  the  revivals  that  left  good,  and  good  only  in  their 
train } 

The  minister  came  down  from  the  pulpit,  and 
took  his  stand  by  the  communion-table.  One  after 
another  of  his  old  deacons  rose  and  testified  to  the 
pleasure  it  gave  them  to  have  him  again  with  them, 
of  their  sense  of  his  loss,  and  their  prayerful 
wishes  for  his  prosperity  in  the  new  field  he  had 
chosen. 

Justin  Mercer  was  present,  and  after  his  short, 
manly  address.  Captain  White  rose  beside  him. 

This  man,  so  well-known,  had  never  before  lifted 
up  his  voice  in  a  religious  service,  and  all  eyes  were 
turned  curiously  upon  him. 

"  Friends,"  he  said,  seriously,  "  I  don't  know  much 
about  church  services,  but  I'll  tell  you  what  has  come 
to  me  since  I've  been  sitting  here.  This  world  is  a 
pretty  decent  old  world,  but  when  you  come  to  think 
about  dying,  a  good  many  of  its  affairs  seem  vanity. 
I've  just  been  thinking,  —  suppose  I  die  to-night.  I 
plight.      Death  comes   pretty  sudden,     Where  am 


THE  SON  OF  THE  MORNING, 


429 


I  going  ?  It  will  be  a  long  voyage  I'm  setting  out 
on.  I  want  to  know  my  home  port,  I  want  to  know 
my  pilot.  I  want  to  know  the  number  of  his  boat. 
Friends,  I  think  I've  found  it  out  to-night.  The 
boat  is  the  old  boat  of  Salvation,  and  the  name  of 
the  pilot  is  Jesus  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 
I  am  a  poor  sinner,  but  I  repent  of  my  sins,  and  if 
there's  any  good  in  sinners  getting  together  and 
trying  to  do  some  work  with  the  help  of  the  saints, 
I  want  to  join  along  with  you  here." 

"  Amen,"  said  Mr.  Huntington,  softly,  "  that  boat 
is  wide  and  deep,  there  is  room  for  others." 

There  were  others  who  wished  to  enter,  and  the 
meeting  did  not  close  for  another  hour.  Then  there 
were  hand-shakings  and  greetings,  and  Bernal  Hunt- 
ington's face  shone  with  happiness,  until  Captain 
White  whispered  something  in  his  ear,  when  it  took 
on  a  hue  of  anxiety. 

He  slipped  through  the  throng  of  people  to  the 
door.  There,  toiling  up  the  steps  at  this  late  hour, 
was  a  dark-robed,  slender  figure,  alarmingly  pale, 
even  through  her  veil. 

"  Chelda,"  he  ejaculated. 

"  I  have  come,"  she  said,  giving  him  her  hand  with 
weary,  child-like  trust.  "  Let  me  tell  the  people  how 
bad  I  have  been.  Perhaps  it  will  make  my  heart 
lighter." 

Not  to-night,  my  darling,"  he  murmured,  "  you 


430 


DEFICIENT  SAINTS. 


are  not  quite  yourself.     We  will  talk  over  just  what 
you  are  to  say." 

She  sat  down  on  the  steps  in  a  dazed  manner. 

"  Did  you  bring  your  carriage } "  asked  her 
lover. 

"No,  I  did  not  think  of  it,  but  I  am  not 
tu-ed." 

"  Poor  soul,"  muttered  Captain  White.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  pale  young  man  at  his  elbow.  "  Run 
for  a  hack,  Cousin  Charlie,  will  you } " 

"  Are  you  going  to  stay  with  me,  Chelda } " 
whispered  Mr.  Huntington. 

She  looked  up,  her  face  lighted  by  a  gleam  of  in- 
extinguishable love.  "  Yes,  Bernal,  if  you  will  have 
me.  I  fell  asleep  after  dinner  and  dreamed  of  my 
aunt.     She  told  me  to  trust  you." 

Captain  White  exchanged  a  few  words  with  the 
clergyman,  then  ra  'ed  down  the  steps.  A  few 
minutes  later  he  rushed  into  the  room  where  his  wife 
sat  gently  dropping  tears  on  her  death-book. 

"  Put  it  away,  Hippy,  —  put  it  away.  The  saints 
in  there  would  all  rejoice  if  they  knew.  Young 
Huntington  is  just  bringing  Chelda  Gastonguay 
to  you  and  Derrice  to  comfort,  till  he  marries 
her.  Start  a  new  book.  Hippy,  —  the  book  of 
life,  —  and  start  it  with  the  sweetest  word  in  the 
language." 

"That  word  is  love,"  she  said,  quietly. 


THE  SON  OF  THE  MORNING. 


431 


«« No,  Hippy,  no ;  and  yet  yes,  for  it's  forgiveness, 
forgiveness,  — the  blotting  out  of  sins,  our  minds  at 
peace.  Hippy,  I  feel  a  new  man,  but  I  haven't  time 
to  tell  you  now.  I  hear  them  at  the  door.  Come, 
let  us  go  welcome  them." 


THE  END. 


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From   the   Recently   Discovered   Memoirs   of  the 
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A  Romance  of  Philipse  Manor  House,  in  1778. 
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Defici  nt  Saints. 

A  Tale  of  Maine.    By  Marshall  Saunders,  author 
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Midst  the  Wild  Carpathians. 

By  Maurus  Jokai,  author  of  "  Black  Diamonds," 
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"  A  romance  sweet  as  violets."  —  Town  Topics  {New  York). 


In  Old  New  York.  (/«  Pr^ss.) 

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Omar  the  Tentmaker. 

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The  Making  of  a  Saint. 

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"  An  exceedingly  strong  story  of  original  motive  and  design.  .  .  .  The  scenes  are 
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"  A  sprightly  tale  abounding  in  adventures,  and  redolent  of  the  spirit  of  mediaeval 
lUHy."  —  BroffJtfyn  Times. 

Friendship  and  Folly. 

A   novel.      By   Maria    Louise    Pool,   author    of 
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"The  story  will  rank  with  the  best  previous  work  of  this  author." ^ /nM/iaiM/ff/M 
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The  Knight  of  King's  Guard. 

A  Romance  of  the  Days  of  the  Black  Prince.    By 
EwAN  Martin.    Illustrated  by  Gilbert  James. 
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period  chronicled  so  admirably  by  Froissart.  The  scene  is  laid  at  a 
border  castle  between  England  and  Scotland,  the  city  of  London,  and 
on  the  Fre  .ch  battle-fields  of  Cressy  and  Poitiers.  Edward  the  Third, 
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to  the  romance.    The  character  of  the  hero  is  especially  well  drawn. 

The  Rejuvenation  of  Hiss  Semaphore. 

A  farcical  novel.     By  Hal  Godfrey.     Illustrated 
by  Etheldred  B.  Barry. 
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"  A  fanciful,  laughable  tale  of  two  maiden  sisters  of  uncertain  age  who  are  induced, 
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■  mytricnl  water  which  posi^esseB  the  value  of  setting  backwards  the  hanu  of  time. 
No  more  delightfully  fresh  and  original  book  has  appeared  since  '  Vic*  VeiM* 
dnnncd  an  amused  world.  It  is  well  written,  dmwn  to  tha  Uf«,«ad  fitU  of  th* 
WLJeyabla  humor."  —  Stttan  Betuon. 


LIST   OF   FICTION. 


Cross  Trails. 

By  Victor  Waite.  Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth  $1.50 

"  A  Spanish-American  novel  of  unusual  interest,  a  brilliant,  dashing,  and  stirring 
story,  teeming  with  humanity  and  life.  Mr.  Waite  is  to  be  congratulated  upon  the 
strength  with  which  he  has  dnwn  his  characters."  —  SaM  Francitce  CkrtmieU. 

"  Every  page  is  enthralling."  —  A  cadetny, 

"  Full  of  strength  and  reality."  —  A  tfutumtm. 

"  The  book  is  exceedingly  powerful."  —  Glatgow  Htraid, 

The  Paths  of  the  Prudent. 

By  J.  S.  Fletcher,  author  of  "When  Charles  I. 
was  King,"  "  Mistress  Spitfire,"  etc.     Illustrated  by 
J.  W.  Kennedy. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth,  300  pages         .         .         $1.50 

"  The  story  has  a  curious  fascination  for  the  reader,  and  the  theme  and  characters 
are  handled  with  rare  ability."  —  Scotsman. 


"Dorinthia  is  charming. 
GmMtte. 


The  story  is    told  with  great  humor."  — /*«//  Matt 


"  An  excellently  well  told  story,  and  the  reader's  interest  is  perfectly  sustained  to 
the  very  end." — Punch. 


Bijli  the  Dancer. 

By  James  Blythe  Patton. 
Van  Rinth. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth 


Illustrated  by  Horace 


$1.50 

"  a  novel  of  Modem  India.  .  .  .  The  fortunes  of  the  heroine,  an  Indiui  Nautch 
girl,  are  told  with  a  vigor,  pathos,  and  a  wealth  of  poetic  sympathy  that  make}  the  book 
admirable  from  first  to  last."  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  A  remarkable  book.''  —  Bookman. 

"  Powerful  and  fascinating."  —  Pail  Mall  Gatettt. 

"  A  vivid  picture  of  Indian  life."  —Academy  {London), 


Drives  and  Puts. 

A  Book  of  Golf   Stories.     By  Walter  Camp  and 
Lilian  Brooks.     Illustrated. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth  decorative         .         .         $1.35 

Considering  the  great  and  growing  interest  in  golf,  —  perhaps  the 
king  of  sports,  —  this  volume,  written  by  Walter  Camp,  the  etninent 
authority  on  sports,  in  collaboration  with  Lilian  Brooks,  the  well- 
known  writer  of  short  stories,  is  sure  to  be  a  succm*. 


L.   C.    PAGE   AND   COMPANY  S 


••  To  Arms  I " 

Being  Some  Passages  from  the  Early  Life  of  Allan 
Oliphant,  Chirurgeon,  Written  by  Himself,  and  now 
Set  Forth  for  the  First  Time.  By  Andrew  Balfour. 
Illustrated  by  F.  W.  Glover. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth         ....        $1.50 

"  A  tale  of '  Bonnie  Tweedsidc,'  and  St.  Dynans  and  Auld  Reekie,  —  a  fair  picture 
of  the  country  under  misrule  and  usurpation  and  all  kinds  of  vicissitudes.  Allan  Oli- 
phant is  a  great  hero."  —  Chicago  Times-Herald. 

<  "A  recital  of  thrilling  interest,  told  with  uaflagging  vigor."  —  Globe. 

"  An  unusually  excellent  example  of  a  semi-historic  romance."  —  World. 


The  River  of  Pearls;  or,  The  Red  Spider. 
A  Chinese   Romance.      By  Rene   de    Pont-Jest, 

with    sixty   illustrations    from   original    drawings   by 
Felix  R6gamey. 
I  vol.,  lib.   i2mo,  cloth,  300  pages    .         .        $1.50 

Close  acquaintance  with  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Chinese 
has  enabled  the  author  to  write  a  story  which  is  instructive  as  well  as 
interesting.  The  book,  as  a  whole,  shows  the  writer  to  be  possessed 
of  a  strong  descriptive  faculty,  as  well  as  keen  insight  into  the  charac- 
ters of  the  people  of  whom  he  is  writing.  The  plot  is  cleverly  con- 
ceived and  well  worked  out,  and  the  story  abounds  with  incidents  of 
the  most  exciting  and  sensational  character.  Enjoyment  of  its  perusal 
is  increased  by  the  powerful  illustrations  of  Felix  R^gamey. 

The  book  may  be  read  with  profit  by  any  one  who  wbhes  to  real- 
ise the  actual  condition  of  native  life  in  China. 


FrivoHties. 

Especially  Addressed  to  Those  who  are  Tired  of 
being  Serious.    By  Richard  Marsh,  author  of  "  Tom 
Ossington's  Ghost,"  etc. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth,  340  pages        .        .        $1.50 

A  dozen  stories  in  an  entirely  new  vein  for  Mr.  Marsh.  The  humor 
it  irresistible,  and  carries  the  reader  on  breathlesslv  from  one  laugh  to 
another.  The  style,  though  appealing  to  a  totally  differeitt  tide  of 
complex  human  nature,  is  as  strong  and  effective  at  the  author's 
faittBM  Mid  dramatic  work  in  "  Tom  Ossuigton's  Ghoat" 


LIST    OF   FICTION. 


Via  Luds. 

By  Kassandra  Vivaria.     With   portrait    of   the 
author. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth         ....        $1.50 

" '  Via  Luds '  is  —  we  say  it  unhesitatingly — a  striking  and  interesting  production." 
—  London  Athenceum. 

"  Without  doubt  the  most  notable  novel  of  the  summer  is  this  strong  story  of  Ital- 
ian life,  so  full  of  local  color  one  can  almost  see  the  cool,  shaded  patios  and  the  flame 
of  the  pomegranate  blossom,  and  smell  the  perfume  of  the  grapes  growing  on  the  hill- 
sides. It  is  a  story  of  deep  and  passionate  heart  interests,  of  fierce  loves  and  fiercer 
hates,  of  undisciphned  natures  that  work  out  their  own  bitter  destiny  of  woe.  Tiieie 
has  hardly  been  a  finer  piece  of  portraiture  than  that  of  the  child  Arduina,  —  the  child 
of  a  sickly  and  unloved  mother  and  a  cruel  and  vindictive  father,  —  a  morbid,  queer, 
lonely  little  creature,  who  is  left  to  grow  up  without  love  or  training  of  any  kind."  —  Nrw 
Orltans  Picayune. 


Lally  of  the  Brigade. 

A  Romance  of  the  Irish  Brigade  in  France  during 
the  Time  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth.  By  L.  McManus, 
author  of  "The  Silk  of  the  Kine,"  "The  Red  Star," 
etc.     Illustrated. 


I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth,  250  pages 


$1.35 


The  scene  of  this  romance  is  partly  at  the  siege  of  Crimona  (held 
by  the  troops  of  Louis  XIV.)  by  the  Austrian  forces  under  Prince 
Eugene.  During  the  siege  the  famous  Irish  Brigade  renders  valiant 
service,  and  the  hero  —  a  dashing  young  Irishman  —  b  in  the  thick 
of  the  fighting.  He  is  also  able  to  give  efficient  service  in  unravelling 
a  political  intrigue,  in  which  the  love  affairs  of  the  hero  and  the 
heroine  are  interwoven. 


Sons  of  Adversity, 

A  Romance  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  Time.  By  L. 
Cope  Cornford,  author  of  "Captain  Jacobus,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 


I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth 


$1.25 


*'  A  tale  of  adventure  on  land  and  sea  at  the  time  when  Protestant  England  and 
Catholic  Spain  were  struggling  for  naval  supreTnacv.  Spanish  conspiracies  against 
the  peace  of  good  Queen  Bess,  a  vivid  description  of  the  raise  of  the  Spanisli  siege  of 
Leyden  by  the  comb'ned  Dutch  and  English  forces,  sea  iighta,  the  recovery  of  stolen 
treasure,  are  all  skiliuUy  woven  elements  in  a  plot  of  unusual  itrenKth."  — ^  Pittibtirf 
BulUtin,  "* 


lO 


L.   C.    PAGE   AND   COMPANY  S 


The  Archbishop's  Unguarded  Moment. 

By  Oscar  Fay  Adams.     Illustrated. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth  decorative  .         .         $1.25 

Mr.  Adams  is  well  known  as  a  writer  of  short  stories.  As  the  title 
indicates,  these  stories  deal  with  dignitaries  of  the  Episcopal  Church. 
The  mingled  pathos  and  humor,  which  Mr.  Adams  has  handled  so 
admirably  in  describing  his  characters,  make  a  book  of  more  thak 
average  interest  for  the  reader  of  fiction. 


Captain  Fracasse. 

Translated  from  the  French  of  Gautier.    By  Ellen 
Murray  Beam.     Illustrated  by  Victor  A.  Searles. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth  ....         $1.25 


"The  story  is  one  of  the  best  i> 
rare  knowledge  of  the  twelfth  century. 

"  Oae  of  those  rare  stories  in  which  vitality  it  abundant."  —  A^ 


nantic  fiction,  for  upon  it  Gautier  lavished  his 
—  Satt  Fraitcuco  Chronicle. 


York  Htrald. 


The  Count  of  Nideck. 

From  the  French  of  Erckmann-Chatrian,  translated 
and  adapted  by  Ralph  Browning  Fiske.    Illustrated 
by  Victor  A.  Searles. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth  ....         $1.25 

" '  The  Count  of  Nideck,'  adapted  from  the  French  of  Erckmann  -  Chatrian  by 
Ralph  Browning  Fiske,  is  a  most  interesting  tale,  simply  told,  and  moving  with  direct 
force  to  the  end  m  view,"  —  Minneapolis  Times. 

"  Rnpid  in  movement,  it  abounds  in  dramatic  incident,  furnishes  v'^phic  descrip- 
tions of  the  locality  and  is  enlivened  with  a  very  pretty  love  story."  —  Trey  Budget. 


Muriella;  or,  Le  Selve. 

By  OuiDA.     Illustrated  by  M.  B.  Pfendergast. 
I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth  ....         $1.25 

"  Ouida's  literary  style  is  almost  perfect  in  '  Muriella.' "  —  Chicago  Tittue-Heraltl. 

" '  Muriella '  is  an  admirable  example  of  the  author's  best  work."  —  Broohfym 
Timet. 

"  It  dwells  in  the  bisiboit,  and  bears  the  dramatic  force,  tracic  interest,  and  skilful- 
•f  trwtsMnt  that  mark  tAt  work  of  Ouida  whn  at  hm  ]t%tt.'^ — POMurg  BmiUiin. 


LIST   OF    FICTION. 


II 


Bobbie  McDuff. 

By  Clinton  Ross,  author  of  "  The  Scarlet  Coat," 
"  Zuleika,"  etc.     Illustrated  by  B.  West  Clinedinst. 
I  vol.,  large  i6nio,  cloth       ....         $i.oo 

" '  Bobbie  McDuff,'  by  Clinton  Ross,  is  a  healthy  romance,  tersely  and  vigorously 
told."  — Louisville  Courier-Journal. 

"  It  is  full  of  mystery  and  as  fascinating  as  a  fairy  tale."  —  San  Francisco  Llironicle. 

"  It  is  a  well-written  story,  full  of  surprises  and  abounding  in  vivid  interest."  —  The 
Cottgregatioftalist,  Boston. 

The  Shadow  of  a  Crime. 

A  Cumbrian  Romance.    By  Hall  Caine,  author  of 
"The  Manxman,"  "The  Deemster,"  etc.,  with  twelve 
full-page  illustrations  in  half-tone,  from  drawings  by 
M.  B.  Prendergast. 
I  vol.,  cloth,  illustrated,  gilt  top  .         ,         .        $1.25 


The  Works  of  Gabriel  d* Annunzio, 

The  Triumph  of  Death. 
The  Intruder. 

The  riaidens  of  the  Rocks. 
The  Child  of  Pleasure. 

Each,  I  vol.,  lib.  i2mo,  cloth 


$1.50 


"The  writer  of  the  greatest  promise  to-day  in  Italy,  and  perhaps  one  of  the  most 
unique  figures  in  contemporary  literature,  is  Gabriel  d'Annunzio,  the  poet-novelist."  — 
The  Bookman. 

"  This  book  is  realistic.  Some  say  that  it  is  brutally  so.  But  the  realism  is  that  of 
Flaubert  and  not  of  Zola.  There  is  no  plain  speaking  for  the  sake  of  plain  speaking. 
Every  detail  is  justified  in  the  fact  that  it  illuminates  either  the  motives  or  the  actions 
of  the  man  and  woman  who  here  str.nd  revealed.  It  is  deadly  true.  The  author  holds 
the  mirror  up  to  nature,  and  the  reader,  as  he  sees  his  own  experiences  duplicated  in 
passage  after  passage,  has  something  of  the  same  sensation  as  all  of  us  know  on  the 
first  reading  of  George  Meredith's  '  Egoist.'  Reading  these  pages  is  like  being  out  in 
the  country  on  a  dark  night  in  a  storm.  Suddenly  a  flash  of  lightning  comes  and  every 
detail  of  your  surroundings  is  revealed."  —  Revittu  of  the  Triumph  of  Death,  in  the 
New  York  Evening  Sim. 


12 


L*.  C.    PAGE   AND   COMPANY  S 


Mademoiselle  de  Berny. 

A  Story  of  Valley  Forge.  By  Pauline  Bradford 
Mackie.  With  five  full-page  photogravures  from 
drawings  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Printed   on    deckle-edged   paper,  with   gilt   top,  and 
bound  in  cloth.     272  pages  .         .         .         $1.50 

"  The  charm  of  '  Mademoiselle  de  Berny '  lies  in  its  singular  sweetness."  — 
Boston  Herald. 

"  One  of  the  very  few  choice  American  historical  stories." —  Boston  Transcript. 
"  Real  romance  .  .  .  admirably  written."  —  IVaskington  Post. 
"  A  stirring  romance,  full  of  life  and  action  from  start  to  finish."  —  Toledo  Daily 
Blade. 

"  Of  the  many  romances  in  which  Washington  is  made  to  figure,  this  is  one  of  the 
most  fascinating,  one  of  the  best."  —  Boston  Courier, 

Ye  Lyttle  5aletn  Maide. 

A  Story  of  Witchcraft.  By  Pauline  Bradford 
Mackie,  with  four  full-page  photogravures  from  draw- 
ings by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

Printed   on    deckle-edged  paper,  with   gilt   top,   and 
bound  in  cloth.     321  pages  .         .         .         $1.50 

a  tale  of  the  days  of  the  reign  of  superstition  in  New  England, 
and  of  a  brave  "  lyttle  maide,"  of  Salem  Town,  whose  faith  and  hope 
and  unyielding  adherence  to  her  word  of  honor  form  the  basis  of  a 
most  attractive  story.  Several  historical  characters  are  introduced, 
including  the  Rev.  Cotton  Mather  and  Governor  and  Lady  Phipps, 
and  a  very  convincing  picture  is  drawn  of  Puritan  life  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century.  An  especial  interest  is  added  to  the 
book  by  the  illustrations,  reproduced  by  the  photogravure  process 
from  originals  by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

In  Guiana  Wilds. 

A  Study  of  Two  Women.  By  James  Rodway, 
author  of  "  In  the  Guiana  Forest,"  etc.  Illustrated. 
I  vol.,  library  i2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover,  250 
pages $1.25 

"  In  Guiana  Wilds  "  may  be  described  as  an  ethnological  romance. 
A  typical  young  Scotchman  becomes,  by  the  force  of  circumstances, 
decivilized,  and  mates  with  a  native  woman. 

It  is  a  psychological  study  of  great  power  and  ability. 


LIST   OF  FICTION. 


13 


Vivian  of  Virginia. 

Being  the  Memoirs  of  Our  First  Rebellion,  by  John 
Vivian,  Esq.,  of  Middle  Plantation,  Virginia.  By  Hul- 
BERT  Fuller.  With  ten  full-page  illustrations  by 
Frank  T.  Merrill. 

I    vol.,    library    i2mo,   cloth,   gilt    top,   deckle-edge 
paper  .         .         .        .        .        .        .        $1.50 

"  A  stirring  and  accurate  account  of  the  famous  Bacon  rebellion."  —  Los  A  ngelts 
Sunday  Times. 

"  We  shall  have  to  search  far  to  find  a  better  colonial  story  than  this."  —  Denver 
Republican. 

"  A  well-conceived,  well-plotted  romance,  full  of  life  and  adventure."  —  Chicago 
Inter-Ocean. 

"  A  story  abounding  in  exciting  incidents  and  well-told  conversations."  —  Boston 
Journal, 

"  Mr.  Fuller  will  find  a  large  circle  of  readers  for  his  romance  who  will  not  be  dis- 
appointed in  their  pleasant  expectations."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Instead  of  using  history  as  a  background  for  the  exploits  of  the  hero,  the  author 
used  the  hero  to  bring  out  history  and  the  interesting  events  of  those  early  days  in 
Virginia.  The  author  has  preserved  the  language  and  customs  of  the  times  admir- 
ably." —  Philadelphia  Telegram. 


The  Gray  House  of  the  Quarries. 

By  Mary  Harriott  Norris.     With  a  frontispiece 
etching  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett. 
I  vol.,  8vo,  cloth,  500  pages  .         .        .         $1.50 

"  The  peculiar  genre,  for  which,  in  a  literary  sense,  all  must  acknowledge  obliga- 
tion to  the  author  of  a  new  type,  is  the  Dutch  -  American  species.  The  church-goines, 
the  courtings,  the  pleasures  and  sorrows  of  a  primitive  people,  their  lives  and  deaths, 
weddings,  suicides,  births  and  burials,  are  Rembrandt  and  Rubens  pictures  on  a  fresh 
canvas."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"The  fine  ideal  of  womanhood  in  a  person  never  once  physically  described  will 
gratify  the  highest  tone  of  the  period,  and  is  an  ennobling  conception."  —  Time  and 
The  Hour,  Boston. 

A  Hypocritical  Romance  and  Other  Stories. 
By  Caroline  Ticknor.     Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Ken- 
nedy. 
I  V'  i.,  large  i6mo,  cloth        .         .         .     '  .         $1.00 

Miss  Ticknor,  well  knov^rn  as  one  of  the  most  promising  of  the 
younger  school  of  American  writers,  has  never  done  better  work  than 
m  the  majority  of  these  clever  stories,  written  in  a  delightful  comedy 
vein. 


JM  -.,11.1.  lftg!LJjIl»jlHM'JiiUU,..;iL..— -- 


H 


L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 


A  Man-at-Arms. 

A  Romance  of  the  days  of  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti, 
the  Great  Viper.  By  Clinton  Scollard,  author  of 
"  Skenandoa,"  etc.  With  six  full-page  illustrations 
and  title-page  by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 
I  vol.,  library  i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  deckle-edge 
paper $1.50 


The  scene  of  the  story  is  laid  in  Italy,  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
fourteenth  century.  The  hero,  Luigi  della  Verria,  unable  to  bear 
the  restrictions  of  home  or  to  reconcile  himself  to  the  profession  of 
law,  as  desired  by  his  father,  leaves  his  family  aiid,  as  the  result  of 
chance,  becomes  a  man-at-arms  in  the  service  of  Gian  Galeazzo  Vis- 
conti, ihe  cunning  and  unscrupulous  Lord  of  Pavia,  known  as  the 
Great  Viper.  Thenceforward  the  vicissitudes  and  adventures,  both 
in  love  and  war,  of  Della  Verria,  are  told  in  a  way  to  incite  the  in- 
terest to  the  highest  point ;  and  a  strong  picture  is  drawn  of  Italian 
life  at  this  period,  with  its  petty  vendettas,  familv  broils,  and  the  un- 
principled methods  employed  by  the  heads  of  noble  families  to  gain 
their  personal  ends. 

An  individual  value  is  added  to  the  book  by  the  illustrations  and 
title-page,  drawn  by  Mr.  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

"  The  style  is  admirable,  simple,  direct,  fluent,  and  sometimes  eloquent ;  and  the 
•tory  moves  with  rapidity  from  start  to  finish."  —  The  Bookman. 

"  A  good  story."  —  N.  Y.  Commercial  A  dvertistr. 

It  is  a  triumph  in  style."  —  Utica  Herald, 


Cyrano  de  Bergerac. 

A  Heroic  Comedy  from  the  French  of  Edward  Ros- 
stand,  as  accepted  and  played  by  Richard  Mansfield. 
Translated  by  Howard  Thayer  Kingsbury. 

I  vol.,  cloth  decorative,  with  a  photogravure  frontis- 
piece .....,,.  $i.oo 
I  vol.,  paper  boards »50 

The  immediate  and  prolonged  success  of  "  Cyrano  de  Bergerac,"  in 
Paris,  has  been  paralleled  by  Mr.  Mansfield's  success  with  an  English 
version,  datinT  from  its  first  night  at  the  Garden  Theatre,  New  York. 
October  3,  1 898. 

As  a  literary  work,  the  original  form  of  Rostand  took  high  rank ; 
and  the  preference  of  Mr.  Mansfield  for  Mr.  Kingsbury's  new  trani- 
lation  implies  its  superior  merit. 


LIST   OF   IICTION. 


15 


A  riad  Madonna  and  Other  Stories. 

By  L.  Clarkson  Whitelock.    With  eight  half-tone 
illustrations. 
I  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth       ....         $i.co 

A  half  dozen  remarkable  psychological  stories,  delicate  in  color  and 
conception.  Each  of  the  six  has  a  touch  of  the  supernatural,  a  quick 
suggestion,  a  vivid  intensity,  and  a  dreamy  realism  that  is  matchless 
in  its  forceful  execution. 


On  the  Point. 

A  Summer  Idyl.     By  Nathan  Haskell  Dole,  au- 
thor of  "Not    Angels    Quite,"  with   dainty  half-tone 
illustrations  as  chapter  headings. 
I  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth         ....         $,.00 

A  bright  and  clever  story  of  a  summer  on  the  coast  of  Maine, fresh, 
breezy,  and  readable  from  the  first  to  the  last  page.  The  narrative 
describes  the  summer  outing  of  a  Mr.  Merrithew  and  h's  family.  The 
characters  are  all  honest,  pleasant  people,  whom  wc  are  glad  to  know. 
We  part  from  them  with  the  same  regret  with  which  we  leave  a  con- 
genial party  of  friends. 


